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MISCELLANEOUS PLAYS, 



BY 



A 



\i ; t c u J a t i ■; 
JOANNA BAILLIE. f . 



% 



oraHV 



SECOND EDITION. 



LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, 

PATERNOSTER-ROW ; 

AND A. CONSTABLE AND CO. EDINBURGH. 



1805. 



)<6o5 






Strahan and Prefton, 
Printers-Sueeu 



ADVERTISEMENT 



TO 




THE SECOND EDITION* 



In the language of the two . Tragedies of this 
volume, a few flight alterations, I hope for the 
better, will be found from that of the firft edition, 
fo flight indeed, that I fcarcely know whether or 
not they deferve to be mentioned* As for the 
Comedy, believing it has been generally difliked, I 
have been afraid to touch it, left, going over it 
again, deprived of that animation fo favourable to 
amendment which encouragement always gives, I 
fhould make it w r orfe inftead of better. 

Several of my friends, fince Rayner was pub- 
lilhed, and one of them, I mud confefs, for whofe 
judgment I have the highefl refpect, before it was 
publifhed, have objected to the defcription of the 
flooded river, Aft 5th, page 127, as very improper 
in the circumftances under which it is introduced. 
I readily grant it may be apt to appear fo at firft 
fight ; but I fhould think, that when thofe circum- 
ftances are more perfectly confidered, this objec- 
A2 



( iv ) 

tion will be confiderably weakened. When the 
Countefs and Confeflbr are told the bridge is 
broken down, the diftance which the MefTenger mufl 
then go, in the fhort time allowed for it, is fo great 
that it feems impoflible, and therefore overwhelms 
their thoughts. To have defired the MefTenger, 
notwithftanding, to mount his horfe and fet off 
immediately, would, as far as I am able to judge, 
not have been natural ; for it is upon flight, not 
upon great, occafions that the mind recovers itfelf 
fufficiently from difappointment to give directions 
immediately as to what is next to be done. I have 
fuppofed the Countefs and Confeflbr not as liften- 
ing to the MefTenger' s defcription, but as recovering, 
while he fpeaks, from the fhock, and confidering 
whether their object is ftill poflible. The difficulty 
here feems to me to be this ; whether is it moll 
natural for the MefTenger himfelf, jufl returned 
from beholding an awful fight in nature, to have 
his mind mofl engrofTed with that, or with the idea 
of riding to the town in time to fave the. prifoner, 
a thing which appears to him absolutely impoflible? 
for it fhould be remembered, that till they call him 
upon the ftage, he has no idea of the nature of the 
errand for which he was kept in readinefs, there- 
fore, it could not beforehand have interefted his 
mind. If the firft of thefe fuppofitions is mofl 
natural, I fhould think I am in a good degree juf- 
tified in introducing this paflage ; if the lafl, I am 
certainly wrong. It is a fault, however, eafily 
rectified by drawing a pen acrofs every line of the 



( v ) 

fpeech except the two firft ; and if the play fhould 
ever be acted, this muft be done for another rea- 
fon, viz. that no theatre could afford to put into 
fuch an infignificant character as that of a Meffen- 
ger an actor capable of reciting it. — Another ob- 
jection may be made to this fpeech, that people in 
his fituation do not make fuch fpeeches. People 
in his fituation of life will not, it is true, to any 
length make fpeeches of fentiment and reflection ; 
but the ftrong impreflioh made upon them by a 
grand and awful object, will put them, for the time 
being, in poffeffion of a power of language and 
ftrength of defcription which I am not vain enough 
to fuppofe I can equal. The language of defcrip- 
tion, having nothing to do with artificial phrafes 
or abftract words, is more equally at the command 
of all ranks of men than any other, that of ilrong 
paffion excepted. 

It has alfo been objected, from many different quar- 
ters, that the incident of Ohio fawing acrofs the main 
beam of the fcafFold, &c. is a very bad one, and fo 
abfurd, that it would fet an audience into a roar of 
laughter. That it is not a good one I very readily 
admit ; but, in reprefentation, the abfurdity, or I 
ought rather to fay, ludicroufnefs of it, fo far from 
being more obvious, would be lefs fo than in the 
clofet. In reading a play, what is reprefented as 
pafling upon the ftage, and what is related as paf- 
fmg elfewhere, are both brought before the ima- 
gination with nearly equal ftrength ; but, in repre- 
fentation, what is only related finks into a degree 

A3 



( vi ) 

of dimnefs and diftance, by which it is almoft compa- 
ratively annihilated. This incident, however, is mod 
certainly not happily conceived, and as it is all com- 
prifed within the compafs of a very few lines, might 
eafily be changed into any other in which Ohio is 
ftill made the agent, by any perfoii who fhould be 
willing to bring this play before an audience. 

In Act firft of Conftantine, page 307, I find that 
my meaning has been fometimes mifunderftood. 
It never once entered into my idea to reprefent the 
Emperor as yielding to his wife's fears, fo far as to 
fend his friends to face the danger threatened from 
the outrageous multitude without him. I have 
made him, whilft he appears to yield, put fuch con- 
duel: in the meaneft and mofl contemptible light, 
trufting that her generous nature would revolt from 
it, as an eafier way of making her fubmit to the 
neceflity than giving a determined refufal. In a 
narrative, where all the fecret thoughts of the heart 
can be as eafily made known as thofe which a 
character is made to utter, there is little excufe 
either for leaving your meaning in a doubtful flate, 
or bringing it out too laborioufly ; but, in a flory 
carried on entirely, or almoft entirely, in dialogue 5 
It is very difficult to avoid both thefe faults, into 
which I confefs I am too apt to fall. 



TO THE READER. 



1 hough I have already met with fo much indul- 
gence from the public for a work obfcured with 
many faults, and might venture, without great 
miftruft, to bring before it the Plays which I now 
offer, unaccompanied by any previous demand upon 
the attention of my reader, which is generally an 
unwelcome thing, I muft neverthelefs beg for a few 
minutes to trefpafs upon his patience. — It has been, 
and (till is, my ftrongeft defire to add a few pieces 
to the flock of what may be called our national or 
permanently a&ing plays, how unequal foever my 
abilities may be to the object of my ambition *. I 
have, therefore, in the " Series of Plays," though 
purfuing a particular plan, endeavoured fully to 
delineate the character of the chief perfon of each 
drama, independently of his being the fubjecl: of a 
particular paffion; fo that we might have an idea of 
what kind of a man he would have been had no 



* See pagd 38. of the introduction to the " Series of 

Flays." 

A 4 



( viii ) 

circumftances ever arifen to bring that paflion vio- 
lently into action. I have endeavoured alfo dif- 
tinctly to difcriminate the inferior characters, be- 
caufe they, not being allowed to exhibit violent 
paflion, left they fhould too much interfere with 
the principal object, had more need of fuch diftinct 
difcrimination to prevent them from being altoge- 
ther infignificant, and to prevent each play from 
becoming a mere picture of paflion which might be 
tedious and heavy to an audience accuftomed to 
variety of character and incident. This I have 
done, how unfkilfully foever I may have done it, 
with a hope, which I will not yet abandon, that 
fome of the dramas belonging to that work may 
hereafter be thought worthy of being admitted into 
that clafs of plays to which I am fo defirous of 
adding fomething. However, I am fenfible that 
were thofe plays more fuccefsful then I dare flatter 
myfelf to expect, they all require too much power 
of expreflion and delicacy of difcrimination in the 
actor who reprefents the principal character — the 
whole depends tpo much pn the exertion of one 
individual, and fuch a one too as can very rarely be 
found, ever to become plays that will commonly 
be brought upon the flage *. Convinced of this, 



* Let it not be fuppofed from the above that I have the 
flighteft intention of difcontinuing the " Series of Plays." 
So far from it, I hope that the work will go on the better for 
being occafionally broke in upon by pieces of a different 
kind; and though I admit they are not altogeflter well 



( i* ) 

as well as wifhing fometimes to vary my employ- 
ment, I have long fince propofed to myfelf not to . 
confine my pen entirely to one tafk, but to write 
from time to time, as inclination might lead me or 
circumftances fuggeft, an unconnected or (may I 
fo call it ?) a free, independent play, that might 
have a chance of pleafing upon a ftage, circum- 
ftanced as ftages generally are, with no particular 
advantages. 1 have wifhed to leave behind me in 
the world a few plays, fome of which might have a 
chance of continuing to be acted even in our can- 
vafs theatres and barns ; and of prelerving to my 
name fome remembrance with thofe who are lovers 
of that fpecies of amufement which I have above 
every other enjoyed. 

I am well aware, however, that having fuc- 
ceeded in one fpecies of writing gives us no fure 
grounds to prefume that we fhall be equally for- 
tunate in any other ; no, not even in that which 
mod nearly approaches to it. Not only the epic 
poet may write a bad tragedy, but the fonnet 
writer may find himfelf greatly at a lofs in com- 
peting a few tender couplets for mufic. I have 
feldom feen any piece, not appearing to me to pof- 
fefs great merit (for fuch things I have feen), fuc- 
ceed upon the ftage, without feeling inclined to fay 
to myfelf, " don't defpife this : very probably in 



fitted for the ftage, as it is commonly circumftanced, I flill 
think plays upon that plan are capable. of being made upon 
the ftage more interefting than any other fpecies of drama. 



( * ) 

attainpting, even upon no higher grounds, fuch 
fuccefs as the prefent, and giving to it alfo the whole 
bent of your thoughts, you would find yourfelf mi- 
ferablydifappointed." I offer to the public, therefore, 
a work of a kind fo nearly related to that in which I 
have already had fome degree of fuccefs and en- 
couragement, with almoft the diffidence of an en- 
tirely inexperienced writer. 

To publifh a volume of mifcellaneous plays, I am 
very fenfible, is making a large demand upon the 
attention of my readers, and expofing the plays 
themfelves likewife to the danger of being read in 
a way that will diminifh their effect, and in every 
way prove a great difadvantage to them. People 
are v in the habit of reading but one new play at a 
time, which by this means makes a full undivided 
impremon upon the mind ; and though we are not 
obliged to read all the plays of a volume, one fol- 
lowing another, fo that they mud crowd, and joftle, 
and tread upon one another's heels ; yet who, with 
a new work in his hands, if he be at all pleafed with 
it, will (hut up the book after the firft portion of it is 
over, and wait till he has properly digefted what he 
has got before he proceed with the remainder ? I 
am inclined to believe that each of the plays in the 
feries has at firft fuffered confiderably from being 
read in this manner ; but in pieces connected with 
one another this mode of publication is in fome 
degree neceflary, at lead there is in it more pro- 
priety. So much am I convinced of this that 
it was at one time my intention to publifh thefe 



C xi ) 

plays feparately, and it is with fome difficulty that 
1 have been prevailed upon to give up this intention. 
May I then beg of my reader to pardon, in the 
firft place, To great a demand upon his attentiou 
by off eringat once a volume of plays to his per- 
uial ; in the next place, to have the goodnefs not to 
read it haitily, but to paufe, fome days at lead, 
between each play, that they may have in this re- 
fpecT: the fame advantages which new plays ge- 
nerally have. Let him not fmile : this laft is a 
requeft which I earneftly make, and if it is not 
complied with, I (hail almofl be tempted to think 
nryfeif hardly treated *. 

I mud aifo mention, that each of the plays con- 
tained in this . volume has been, at one time or 
other, offered for representation to one or other of 



* It may be urged, indeed, that unconnected poems 
bound up together, and almofl every other fpecies of com- 
pofition, muil fuffer for being read in hafty fuccefuon in the 
fame way. And fo in fome degree they do. But in read- 
ing defcriptions of nature, fncceflions of thoughts, and nar- 
ratives of every kind, the ideas they reprefent to the mind 
are as troops drawn out before it in loofe marihalled array, 
whofe moil animated movements it furveys Hill as a fpec- 
tator ; whiiil in reading a drama, where every character 
fpeaks immediately in his own perfon, wc by fvmpathy 
rufh, as it were, ourfelves into the battle, and fight under 
every man's coat of mail by turns. This is an exercife of 
the mind fo clofe and vigorous, that we retire from it ex- 
haufted : and if curiofity mould urge us on without fuffi- 
pient reft to the next engagement that calls for us, we enter 
the field bewildered, and fpiritlefs, and weak. 



( xii ) 

our winter theatres, and been rejected. This my 
reader will readily believe is not done in the fpirit 
of vanity-; and I beg of him alfo to believe, that 
neither is it at all done in that of complaint. I 
merely mention it, becaufe otherwife it muft have 
appeared abfurd to introduce from the prefs what 
has been exprefsly written to come before the pub- 
lic in a different manner, without making any at- 
tempt to prefent it in its own peculiar mode. I 
muft, in this cafe, have either appeared pufillani- 
moufly timid in fhrinking from that open trial to 
which my contemporaries fubmit, or fullenly and 
ungracioufly faftidious. 

The chief thing to be regretted in this failure of 
my attempts is, that having no opportunity of feeing 
any of my pieces exhibited, many faults refpecling 
ftage effect and general impreffion will to me re- 
main undifcovered, and thofe I may hereafter 
write be of courfe unimproved. Another difadvan- 
tage, perhaps, may prefent itfelf to the mind of my 
reader; viz. that not having the trial of their merits 
immediately in profpecl, I may become carelefs 
or forgetful of thofe requifites in the drama that 
peculiarly refer to the ftage. But if I know any 
thing at all of my own character, this will not be 
the cafe. I mail perfevere in my tafk, circum- 
ftanced as I am, with as anxious unremitting an at- 
tention to every thing that regards the theatre as if 
I were there forthwith to receive the full reward of 
all my labours, or complete and irretrievable con- 
demnation. So ftrong is my attachment to the 

4 



( xi » ) 

drama of my native country, at the head of which 
flands one whom every Britifh heart thinks of with 
pride, that a diftant and uncertain hope of having 
even but a very few of the pieces I offer to the 
public reprefented to it with approbation, when 
fome partiality for them as plays that have been 
frequently read fhall have put it into the power of 
future managers to bring them upon the ftage with 
lefs rifk of lofs than would be at prefent incurred, 
is fufficient to animate me to every exertion that I 
am capable of making. 

But I perceive a fmile rifing upon the cheek of 
my reader at the fanguine calculations of human 
vanity, and in his place I mould mod probably fmile 
too. Let that fmile, however, be tempered with 
refpect, when it is confidered how much mankind 
is indebted to this pleafmg but deceitful principle 
in our nature. It is neceffary that we mould have 
fome flattery to carry us on with what is arduous 
and uncertain, and who will give it to us in a man- 
ner fo kindly and applicable to our neceflities as 
even we our own felves ? How poor and ftation- 
ary mud the affairs of men have remained, had 
every one, at the beginning of a new undertaking, 
confidered the probability of its fuccefs with the 
cool, temperate mind of his reafonable, unconcerned 
neighbour ? 

It is now time to fay fomething of the particular 
plays here orTered to the public. 

In the firft I have attempted, in the character of 
Rayner, to exhibit a young man of an eafy, amiable 



temper, with delicacy of fentiment and a well prin- 
cipled mind, tempted, in the extremity of diftrefs, 
to join with unworthy men in the propofed com- 
mimon of a detefl able deed ; and afterwards, under 
one of the fevered trials that human fortitude can 
be called upon to endure, bearing himfelf up, not 
with the proud and lofty nVmnefs of a hero, but 
with the druggies of a man, who, confcious of the 
weaknefs of nature within him, feels diffident of 
himfelf to the lad, and rnodeftly aims at no more 
than what, being a foldier and the ion of a brave 
father, he confiders as refpectable and becoming. 
One who afpires not to admiration but flirinks 
from contempt ; and who being naturally brave in 
the field, and of a light buoyant, difpofition, bears 
up. throughout with an animation and- cheerfulnefs 
by no means incbnfiftent with a confiderable degree 
of the dread of death, when called upon to en- 
counter it with deliberation and certainty. To him 
I have oppofed the character of a young man, in 
whom, though with \&i)vz good affections, there is a 
foundation of natural depravity, greatly ftrengthened 
by the bad education he has received from an ab- 
furdly indulgent mother, brought by his crimes to an 
untimely end, and meeting it with a very different 
fpirit. 

Of the characters of the two principal women in 
this piece, oppofed to two women of a very dif- 
ferent defcription I mall fay nothing. The fecond 
and inferior perfons of the drama I have endea- 
voured to delineate with fufficient difcrimination to 



( xv ) 

make us feel acquainted with them, though much 
force or originality is a praife which I readily grant 
they are not entitled to. 

I am afraid the varied conduct of the whole, 
fometimes gay and .even ludicrous, fometimes ten- 
der or diftreflmg, but fcarcely at any time folemn 
or dignified, will be difpleafing to thofe who are 
accuftomed to admire tragedy in its more exalted 
form. I flatter myfelf, however, that as I have not, 
for the fake of variety, introduced any under-piot 
nor patched fcenes unconnected with the main 
bufmefs, but have endeavoured to make every thing 
arife naturally from the circumftances of the ftory, 
I fhall not on this fcore be very much cenfured *. 

This play was written many years ago, when I 
was not very old, and flill younger from my igno- 
rance of every thing regarding literature than from 
my years. This, however, I do not mention as any 
apology for its defects. A work that cannot be 
read with approbation unlefs the mind is continu- 



* That part of the fcene, Ad III. in the court of the 
prifon, where the fongs of the confined chief of banditti and 
a flight iketch of his character are introduced, though very- 
appropriate to the pbce, ftands loofe from the bufinefs of the 
play, and may therefore be confidered as fupernuous and 
contradicting what I have faid above. But as it is fhort, 
and is a fancy come into my head from hearing ftories ia 
my childhood of Rob Roy, our Robin Hood of Scotland, 
I cannot find in my heart to blot it out, though, either en the 
ftage or in the clofet, any body is welcome to do it for me by 
pafiing it over entirely. 



( xvi ) 

ally referring to the particular circumflances under 
which it was written, ought not to be brought be- 
fore the public, but (when thofe circumflances are 
very extraordinary) as a literary curiofity. Read- 
ing over this work, after it had been laid by for 
fuch a length of time that it was to me almoft like 
the work of a flranger, I thought there was fuf- 
ficient matter in it, with fome alterations, to make 
an interefling play, not unfuited to the common 
circumflances of even our country theatres ; and 
indeed I have altered it fo confiderably that full one 
half of it may be faid to be newly written. In the 
original it was uniformly written in blank verfe, 
and in many of the fcenes, particularly thofe ap- 
proaching to comic, my reader will readily believe 
it was fufficiently rugged and hobbling ; I have, 
therefore, taken the liberty of writing in plain profe 
all thofe parts w 7 here I thought blank verfe would 
b^ cumbeifome and (lilted. The only fcenes in the 
play that remain exactly or nearly as they flood in 
the original are, that between Rayner and the Old 
Man of the wood, in which I have fcarcely altered 
a fingle word, and that, Ad IV. Scene III. between 
Zaterloo and his mother. 

A play, with the fcene laid in Germany, and 
opening with a noify meeting of midnight robbers 
over their wine, will, I believe, fugged to my 
readers certain fources from w-hich he will fuppofe 
my ideas mufl have certainly been taken. Will he 
give me perfect credit when I affure him, at the time 
this play was written, I had not only never read any 



( xvii ) 

German plays, but was even ignorant that fuch 
things as German plays of any reputation exifted ? 
j hope — I am almoft bold enough to fay, I know that 
he will. And that I may not abufe his faith by fmug- 
gling' any thing under its protection not flri&ly en- 
titled to it, I mud inform him that the fhort fcene 
between Rayner and his fervant Herman which I 
thought in fome degree neceflfary to fhew the cha- 
racter and temper of the matter, and to intereft us 
in his favour before the great action cf the piece 
begins, was entirely introduced in my latter altera- 
tions, and is therefore liable to whatever charge of 
imitation it may feem to deferve, though 1 have not 
been fenfible, in writing it, of having any particular 
clafs of authors in my mind. 

Of the comedy that follows it I (hall fay but 
little. To thofe who are chiefly accuftomed, in 
works of this kind, to admire quick turns of thought, 
pointed expreflion, witty repartee, and the ludi- 
crous difplay of the tranfient pafling follies and 
fafhions of the world, this play will have but few 
attractions. The reprefentation of a few charac- 
ters, not, I believe, " over-ftepping the modefty of 
nature," who are connected together in a very fim- 
ple plot, carried on throughout with cheerfulnefs, 
unmixed with any pretenfions to great refinement of 
fentiment, or delicate ftrokes of tendernefs, is all 
this piece has to boaft of : and with no higher pre- 
tenfions, the greater proportion of my readers will 
not, I flatter myfelf, find fault with me for having 
made it a kind of divifion or flepping-flone between 



( xviii ) 

the two tragedies ; where, if they do not enjoy a 
brilliant funfhine, they may at leaft have a little 
flickering of the funbeams to play upon them as 
they pafs from one fombre gloom to another. It 
has lain by me for many years, and has received 
a very few inconfiderable alterations. 

The laft play of this volume was written in the 
hope of being brought out upon our largefl theatre, 
enriched as it then was by two a&ors whofe no- 
ble appearance and ftrong powers of expreffion 
feemed to me peculiarly fuited to its two principal 
characters. The fubjecl: of it is taken from Gib- 
bon's account of the fiege of Conftantinople by the 
Turks. It was a fubjecl: that prefled itfelf upon 
me, at a time when I had no thoughts of writing at 
all, and (if I may ufe the expreffion) would be 
written upon. The character there difplayed of 
Conftantine Paleologus, the lad of the Csefars, a 
modeft, affectionate, domefiic man; nurfed in a lux- 
urious court in habits of indulgence and indolence; 
without ambition, even without hope, roufing him- 
felf up on the approach of unavoidable ruin ; and 
deferted by every Chriftian prince in Europe, de- 
ferted by his own worthlefs and enervated fubjects, 
iupported alone by a generous band, chiefly of 
ft rangers, devoting themfelves to him from generous 
attachment ; — to fee him thus circumflanced, nobly 
fronting the ftorm, and perifhing as became the laft 
of a long line of kings, the laft of the Romans; — this 
was a view of man — of noble and dignified exertion 
which it was impoflible for me refill, though well 



( *>x ) 

aware that no play I am capable of writing can ever 
be equal to what fuch a fubject deferves. So much 
was I pleafed with thofe generous ties — may I be 
permitted to make ufe of a fcripture phrafe, and 
fay, thofe " cords of a man ?" binding together the 
noble Paleologus and his brave imperial band, that, 
had I followed my own inclination, delineating 
thofe would have been the principal object of the 
piece. But convinced that fomething more was 
requifite to intereft a common audience, and give 
fufficient variety to the fcenes, I introduced the cha- 
racter of Valeria, and brought forward the domeftic 
qualities of Conftantine as well as thofe of the un- 
fortunate prince and beloved leader. 

Mahomet and Juftiniani are the only .characters 
in the piece, Conftantine excepted, that are not 
imaginary. The fir ft will be found, I hope, to 
correfpond with the character given of him by the 
Jiiftorian. To alter, for the idle convenience of 
poetry, confpicuous, or indeed any characters that 
have been known in the world, appears to me 
highly blameable, though in filling up an outline 
given us by hiftory we cannot well avoid heighten- 
ing or diminishing the general effect. Juftiniani, if 
I well remember (for I have not the hiftory by 
me at prefent to refer to), was a noble Genoefe, who, 
after a life diitinguifhed for military honour, dif- 
graced himfek^by being the firft to turn his back 
when the Turks attacked the breach on the day of 
the lafl: general afTault, and was the immediate 
.caufe of the city being taken. He is faid after- 

a 2 



( XK ) 

wards on this account to have died of a broken 
heart. I have endeavoured to reprefent him as a 
proud man with a high fenfe of honour, rather than 
natively brave, i n It *fore particularly puncti- 
lious in every thing that concerns the reputation of 
a foldier. To him I have ventured to oppofe a mi- 
litary character of a very different defcription, in 
the commander of the Genoefe veifels which fo 
gallantly forced their way into the port of Conitan- 
tinople during the fiege ; and if I have dwelt too 
much on the rough generous gallantry of a brave 
fea,man, and given too many allufions throughout 
the whole to the dangers and viciflitudes of a fea- 
faring life, my country, which has owed fo much to 
brave men of this clafs, will fcand forth in my de- 
fence, and fay, that a Briton upon this fubject writes 
proudly, and therefore is tempted to write pro- 
fufely. In the other imaginary characters, parti- 
cularly that of Othus, I have endeavoured to accord 
with the circumftances of the times ; for it is to be 
remembered, that flothful and corrupted as the in- 
habitants of Conftantinople then were, amongft 
them were flill to be found the chief remains of 
ancient literature and refinement *. 



* The character of Othoric, or rather the circr.mftance of 
his death, I have taken from an account I have read fome- 
where, I believe in one of Dr. Moore's Novels, of a High- 
land fergeant, who faved himfelf by a fimiiar flratagem 
from the torments prepared for him by the American 
Indians. 



( X3 " ) 

Perhaps in the conduct of this tragedy I have 
fometimes weakened the interefl of it by attending 
too much to magnificence and mow. But it was 
intended for a large theatre, where a play is rather 
looked at than liftened to, and where, indeed, by a 
great proportion of the audience, it cannot be heard ; 
and though I might now very eafily remove that 
fhow, yet to place in its (lead what it has mofl 
probably kept back,, would be almoft impoffible. 
For that which has probably been prevented by it, 
mould have been woven and incorporated into the 
original texture of the piece, and cannot afterwards 
be inferted here and there in flreaks and patches. 
It has alfo, I am inclined to believe, received fome 
injury from my having had, when I fketched my 
two chief characters, the actors who I intended 
mould reprefent them, too much in my thoughts. 
This is a fault, and I am fenfible it is fo : but thofe 
who have feen and admired the great powers of 
thofe actors in the higheft line of tragedy, will 
eafily admit that I have not finned without a ftrong 
temptation. I hope alfo that this, (landing alone, 
as a -fingle offence of the kind, amongft a confi- 
derable number of plays which, if I live long 
enough, my prefent talk will probably increafe to, 
may be forgiven. 

I am fenfible there is not that flrength and com- 
pactnefs of plot ; that clofe connection of events 
producing one another in this play, which is a great 
perfection in every dramatic work, and which I am 
forry to fay is a perfection that is not .tp be found 



( xotii ) 

in any work of mine that I have hitherto publimed. 
However, I flatter myfelf I iiave in this inftance a 
good excufe to make. It appears to me that, in 
taking the fubjecl: of a poem or play from real 
ffory, we are not warranted, even by the prerogatives 
of bardfhip, jto affign imaginary caufes to great 
public events. We may accompany thofe events 
with imaginary characters and circumftances of no 
great importance, that alter them no more in the 
mind of the reader than the garniture with which a 
painter decorates the barrennefs of fome well- 
known rock or mountain that ferves for a landmark 
%o the inhabitants of the furrounding country, He 
may clothe its rugged fides with brufhwood, and 
hang a few florm-ftunted oaks on its bare peaks ; 
he may throw a thin covering of mid on fome un- 
toward line of its acclivity, and bring into ftronger 
light the bold ftoried towerings of its pillared cliffs; 
he may even ftretch the rainbow of heaven over its 
gigantic head, but its large and general form mufl 
remain unaltered. To have made a romantic pafSon 
for Valeria the caufe of Mahomet's befieging the 
city, would, I believe, have pleafed the generality of 
readers, and have made this play appear to them 
more like what a play ought to be ; but I mud 
then have done what I confider as wrong. 

It would be impertinent to proceed farther in 
pointing out the merit, if it has any, or demerit of 
this tragedy, of which 1 cannot pretend to be a very 
clear-fighted or impartial judge. 1 leave it, with its 
companions, to my reader, who will, I doubt not, 

4 



( xxiii ) 

perufe them with reafonable indulgence, and 
more than this it would be foolifli even to defire. 
If I find that, upon the whole, thefe plays have 
given more pleafure to the public than the reverfe, 
I {hall not lefs cheerfully bring forward, at fome 
future time, thofe which remain behind, becaufe 
their faults (hall have been fully expofed to the 
cenfure they deferve. 



RAYNER 

A TRAGEDY, 
IN FIVE ACTS. 



B 



^*# 

* 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 

MEN: 

Rayner. 

Count Zaterloo, a worthlefs diffipated nobleman 

of ruined fortune ', and chief of a band of lawlefs 

ruined men, like himfelf 

Bernard, "} „ rr9 . 

c „ > Gentlemen and followers of Zaterloo. 

SEBASTIAN, 3 J J 

Hardibrand, an old general. 
Mardonio, a monk. 
Old man of the Wood. 
Ohio, a negro attached to the p r ifo?u 
Herman, fervant to Rayner. 
Richard. 
Bertram. 
Gobas, 

Keeper of the Prifon, Clown, Executioners, Turnkey, 
Jailor, Meffenger, Landlord, Confeffor, Crowd, 

WOMEN: 
Elizabeth. 

Countess Zaterloo, mother to Zaterloo. 
Mir a, a courtezan. 
Alice, friend to Mira. 

Scene, — Germany, near the frontiers ^Poland and 
Siiefia. 



R A Y N E R, 



ACT I 



SCENE I. A nolfe of voices and unruly merriment 
is heard, whilft the curtain draws up, and dis- 
covers Count Zaterloo, Bernard, Sebaftian, and 
others of their band, feated round a table with 
wine, &c. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

IJA ! ha ! ha ! ha ! with all this noify mirth, 

Should fome grave ftranger, on his way milled, 
Now pufh the door a-jar, and look upon us 
Thus fet, what clafs of men fhould we be deem'd ? 
A fet of light hearts, fnug in fortune's lap, 
Who will not go to bed becaufe we may ? 
Or club of (harpers, flufh'd with full fuccefs, 
New from the fpoiling of fome fimple fool ? 
Or troop of (trolling players, at our eafe, 
After the labours of our kingly forrows, 
With throats new cool'd at as great charge of wine 
As. our tough lungs have coft of lady's tears ? 

BERNARD. 

No, no, thou haft not hit upon it yet : 
He'd take thee for the heir of fome old mifer, 

B 2 



4 RAYNER: 

Treating thy friends, as first fruits of thy kingdom, 
With flowing bumpers to the quiet reft 
Of thy good kinfman's foul. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Yes, Bernard, thou fay'ft well : and thy dark 
vifage, 
Lank and unfuited to all mirth, would mark thee 
The undertaker, who amongfl the guefts 
Had come on matters of his fable trade, 
Grinning a ftrange, uncomely, jaw-bone fmile 
O'er the near profpefb of his future gains. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Rethinks, at leaft, in this gay, jolly band, 
He fc^fcely would difcover needy men, 
Who better days have feen. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Tut, man I thou art too grave ; thou art too 
grave— ^ 

Which of you fung that fong with merry lay, 
Some few nights fince ? Come, let us have it now. 

SONG. 

Te who fain would happy be, 
Give the hand, and join with me: 
They who toil the weary day, 
They who bend with locks of grey. 
They who tread the beaten way, 
Fools who work that we may play^ 



A TRAGEDY. 

Fold their weary arms toflecp, 
Come, let us our vigil keep. 

Fellows, join, and never fear ; 
Te who would be happy, hear. 
With the fober and the meek, 
Lighter Jlies the pajfing week ? 
In his dwelling warm andjleek, 
Brighter J miles the rich man's cheek f 
Wifer things may wife men fay, 
But we are wifer far than they. 

Come, light fpirits, light and free, 

Wifefi they whofoolifh be. 

He who hammers at the pot, 

He who brews for every fot, 

He who made my hofe and coat, 

Is a better man I wot ; 

Tet were we form 9 d, events declare, 

He to work and I to wear. 

Miflrefs of the mifly Jhroud, 
0, lovely moon ! come from thy cloud. 
When thou o'erlook'ft the ocean's brine, 
Ourf elves we view in floods of wine. 
Our conflancy refembles thine; 
hike thee in borrowed robes we Jliine; 
Then let us, in thy kindred light, 
Still wake, the rulers of the nighu 



6 RAYNER: 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

It is a fong of Halbert's, is it not ? 
He was a focial jolly-hearted mate, 
And had a knack of making ready rhymes. 

BERNARD. 

I knew him well : what has become of him ? 

count zaterloo (pretending not to hear). 
Fill up your glafs, and let the flafk go round. 

BERNARD. 

What has become of Halbert, doft thou know? 

count zaterloo (JIM pretending not to hear J, 
This wine is richly flavour'd, is it not ? 

BERNARD. 

It is. — But Halbert ; know ye aught of him ? 

count zaterloo. 
The devil take thy question, afking fpirit ! 
For when thou get'ft a notion by the fkirt, 
Thou, like an Englifh bull-dog, keep'ft thy hold, 
And wilt not let it go. — 
He (hot himfelf in prifon fome months fince : 
Now, there's thine anfwer for thee ; art thou fatis- 
fied? 

(A deep and long paufe; then Waterloo Jlarts 
up as if he recollected fwething.) 
He will be with us ere I've pav'd his way. 



A TRAGEDY. 



SEBASTIAN. 

? 



Haft thou fome new aflbciate to propofe 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Know ye the younger branch of Valvo's houfe ? 
Whofe valiant father left him but his fword 
And his proud fpirit, thro' this changeful world 
To fhape his way, with heart as truly tempered 
To all the fofteft: witch'ries of refinement 
As e'er own'd cherifh'd heir of wide domains, 
In palace nurs'd. 

SEBASTIAN. 

I've feen him when a youth, 
But he fince then has of a foreign ftate 
The foldier been ; and had not now returned, 
But in the hope, 'tis faid, of being heir 
To his great uncle's vafh and rich pofleflions, 
Of which that villain Hubert has depriv'd him 
With treach'rous wiles. Poor heart ! he has my 

pity. 
'Tis faid a ling'ring fever feiz'd upon him 
From difappointment ; and I marvel not - % 
The ftroke was moft fevere. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

And felt more keenly, 
For that he left behind him, in the country 
To which he now belongs, a gentle maid 
And his bethroth'd, with whom he thought to fharc 

B4 



» t 



S R A Y N E R: 

His promis'd wealth. 

But these things reft. — Thus driven as we are 

To this uncertain, daring courfe of life, 

The flronger and the more refpe&able 

Our band, the greater chance of profpering. 

Our number is too fmall ; and, by my foul, 

To fee a mean, plebeian, vulgar knave, 

Admitted of our fellowfhip, ftill rubs 

Againft my nature. Such a man as Rayner 

Is precious, and, once gain'd, is fure and fteadfaft. 

But few days fince I met him, dark and thoughtful. 

With melancholy and unwonted gait 

Slow faunt'ring thro* lone, unfrequented paths, 

Like one whofe foul from man's obferving eye 

Shrinks gall'd, as fhrinks the member newly torn 

From every flighted touch. Seeing him thus, 

I mark'd him for my man. 

BERNARD. 

Did'fl thou accoft him ? 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Yes ; when to my greeting, 
cc Thou fee' ft I am unhappy, go thy ways," 
He fretful faid, and turn'd. I ftill perfifted, 
With foothing words which thrill' d againft his heart, 
(For in our youthful days we once were playmates,) 
Like the fweet tones of fome forgotten fong, 
Till, like a pent-up flood fwoln to the height, 
He pourM his griefs into my breaft with tears, 



A TRAGEDY. 9 

Such as the manlieft men in their crofs'd lives 
Are fometimes forc'd to fhed\ 

SEBASTIAN, 

And fpoke he of his Jove ? 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Nay, there indeed 
fie was referv'd ; but that part of his ftory, 
Which I from fure authority have learnt, 
I ftill thro' broken words could fhrewdly read, 
Altho' he nam'd it not. 

BERNARD. 

Haft thou explain' d to him our courfe of life ? 

COUNT ZATERJLOO. 

No, that had been too much : but can' It thou 
doubt, 
SufFring fuch wrongs as Hubert's artful bafenefs 
Has put upon him, he will fcruple long, 
Thus circumftanc'd, to join his arm with ours 
In murd'ring the rich villain ? 

Bernard (look'mg at Sebaftian, whoJJorinks back), 

I pray thee call it fhooting ! that plain word 
Still makes Sebaftian, like a fqueamifii dame, 
Shrink and look lily-fac'd. To moot a man 
As one in battle fhoots a fronted foe ; 
As from the tavern's broil, in meafur'd field, 
One moots a friend, is nought :— but that word 
murder 



to RAYNER: 

It hath a horrid found ; pray thee, good captain, 
Remember 'tis a band of gentlemen 
Thou doft command, and let fuch gentle phrafe 
Fall from thy tongue as gentle ears may fuit. 
(0 nines laughing loud at Sebajlian.) 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Hum ! Rayner is at hand, I hear his fleps* 
Enter Rayner. 

I give you welcome, Rayner, with my heart : 
Thefe are my friends, of whom I well might boafl, 
But that it feems like boafting of myfelf. 
Here, take your place, and join our fellowfhip, 
There is but little need of ceremony 
With thofe whom like misfortunes bring together. 

RAYNER. 

I take my feat, honour'd in fuch a place ; 
And fo far to misfortune am indebted, 
Which has procur'd it for me. (Sits down.} 

Bernard (drinking to Rayner). 
This do I fill to future fellowfhip : 
To that which makes, at fortune's lowed ebb, 
A few brave men united, mock the world 
And all its plodding rules ; enabling them 
Boldly to feize their portion of life's feaft, 
Which griping av'rice or unjuft oppreffion 
Would from them fnatch, whilft with infultmg 

fcom 
It feoffs at poverty and patient want. 



A TRAGEDY. n 



RAYNER. 

Thou truly fay'ft ; at lead I have obferv'd 
That thofe who bear misfortunes over meekly 
Do but perfuade mankind that they and want 
Are all too fitly match'd to be disjoin'd, 
And fo to it they leave them. 

BERNARD. 

'Tis ever fo : 
Even good men then neglect them ; but the bafe, 
They, who by mean and undermining arts 
To o'ergrown wealth attain, like the afs's heel 
'Gainfl: the fick lion's low and lanken bread 
Spurn at them. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Yes, good Bernard, thou fpeak'ft truly. 
For I myfelf, who, as thou know'ft right well, 
Am not too meekly to misfortune bent, 
Have fomewhat of the worthlefs afs's kick 
Again ft my bofom felt. — 'Lone and unarm* d — 
Had but one brave companion by my fide 
My anger fhar'd, full dearly had the knave — 
But let it pafs— he had a brave man's curfe, 
And that will reft upon him. 

BERNARD. 

But, pray thee, Count, tell us the circumftance, 
TKou fpeak'ft in myftery. 



i2 R A Y N E R : 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

A few days fince, returning near my home, 
Upon a narrow path rais'd from a road 
With mud choak'd up, behind me trampling came* 
A band of hVried rafcals at his heels, 
In all his awkward flate, a pufFd-up worldling, 
And rode me off my way ; whilfl looking back, 
He turned his head with a malicious grin 
At the poor fpatter'd wretch, who in the mud 
Stood fhowering curfes on him, 

RAYNER. 

Ay, 'tis the curfed infolence of wealth 
r f hat makes the poor man poor. Thou wert un- 
arm'd ? 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

I was ; or by this hand, poor as I am, 
I fhould have fpent a brace of bullets on him 
With much good-will. 

RAYNER. 

Know'ft thou the villain's name ? 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Faith, I'm almoft afham'd to tell it thee* 
Thou know'ft him well : he is a rich man now 5 
His name is Hubert. 

RAYNER. 

There lives no blacker villain on the earth 



A TRAGEDY. 13 

Than him who bears it. — But thou know'ft it all. 
When from a diftant country, where with honour 
I earn'd a foldier's pittance, the fair promifes 
Of a near kinfman tempted me, and I, 
Tho* by my nature mo ft incautious, 
And little fkill'd to gain. by flatt'ring arts 
An old man's love, high in his favour flood ; 
That villain Hubert rous'd his jealous nature 
With artful tales of flights and heir-like wifhes, 
And covert mock'ry of his feeble age, 
Till, in the bitternefs of changed love, 
All his vaft wealth he did bequeath to him, 
And left me here, ev'n in this ftranger's land, 
(For years of abfence makes it fo to me,) 
A difappointed, friendlefs, unknown man, 
Poor and deprefled, fuch as you fee me now* 

BERNARD. 

Double, detefled, cruel-hearted villain ! 

count zaterloo (Jiarting up with affecled vehe- 
mence). 

By heaven he dies, as I do wear this arm ! 

(they alljlart up.) 

Defended by a hoft of liv'ried knaves, 
I'd feek him out alone. 

BERNARD. 

Thou (halt not go alone ; here, heart and hand 
We will all join thee in fo good a caufe. 



i 4 RAYNER: 

FIRST GENTLEMAN. 

My arm is at thy will. 

SECOND GENTLEMAN. 

Take my aid too ; 
We never can be bold in better caufe. 

third gentleman (on receiving a fign from 
Zaterloo). 
Then, Sirs, you mud be fpeedy with your ven- 
geance, 
For I am well inform'd that on to-morrow, 
With all his treafure, for a diftant province 
He will begin his*)ourney towards eve. 

count zaterloo. 
Ha ! then good fortune leads him to our hands ; 
How goes he guarded ? 

THIRD GENTLEMAN. 

With a flender train. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Then thanks to fortune's fav'ririg fmiles, which 
thus, 
Whilft we but feek revenge for a friend's wrongs, 
So kindly throws into our heedlefs way 
The eafy cure of our neceffities. 
Yes, let us feize the greedy glutted villain ! 
6 



A TRAGEDY. 15 

Let us difgorge him of his ill-got gains ! 

He long enough has rioted in eafe, 

Whilft better men have felt the gripe of want. 

BERNARD. 

Yes, let it be fo, let the villain die! 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

What fay'fl thou, Rayner ? thou alone art filenL 

RAYNER. 

The wrongs are mine, and if with indignation 
They fill your breads, in ftrong defire of vengeance 
Ye well may guefs 1 am not far behind : 
But there's a law above all human bonds, 
Which damps the eager beating of my heart, 
And fays, " do thou no murder." 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Well, clear thy knitted brows, nor look thus 
flrangely. 
We both are form'd, my friend, to know like feel- 
ings, 
Like wants and wifhes, and from better days 
Both are reduced to fortune's loweft ebb : 
And I as well as thou, (landing thus fingly, 
Can feed my fancy up with ftrong conceits 
Of what in lettered lore is virtue term'd, 
And bear its darkefl frowns. There was a time, 
When fharing ev'ry wifh and ev'ry view 
With one of weaker frame and fofter foul ; 



15 RAYNER: 

Yet forced by the dark frowns of adverfe fortune 
To live a willing outlaw from her prefence, 
Becaufe I could not bear to come before her 
A poor defpifed man, reft of that comelinefs 
And honeft grace which independence gives, 
To bid her throw afide her flowing robes 
And decent ornaments of maiden pride, 
Unveil the fweetnefs of her (helter'd beauty 
To beating mid-day heats and chilling winds, 
And be a wand 'ring vagrant by my fide ;— 
There was a time, my friend, when, thus befet, 
At view of any means to better fortune, 
A ftronger pow'r had ris'n within my breaft 
And mock'd at law. But, (landing thus alone, 
I can as well as thou forego the gain 
Which this occafion offers. — Let it pafs i 
There is within us, be it fuperftition, 
Th* unfcann'd opinions from our childhood cherifh'd* 
Or natural inftinct, (till a ftrong averfion 
To ev'ry a£t of blood. Let us yield to it, 
We will not (train our nature from its bent : 
We'll do no violent deed. 

rayner (catching hold of Zaterloo with great 
agitation). 
O thou haft mov'd me! thou haft conjur'd 
thought I 
Wert thou — Wert thou indeed thus circumftancM X 
And thy deferted love ; what was her fate ? 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

She felt not long the cruel feparation : . 



A TRAGEDY. i; 

One lovely bufh of the pale virgin thorn, 
Bent o'er a little heap of lowly turf, 
Is all the fad memorial of her worth ; 
All that remains to mark where fhe is laid. 

RAYNER. 

Oh ! Oh ! and was it thus ! 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

But let us now make off thefe difmal thoughts, 
This hour was meant for focial fellowfhip : 
Refume your feats, my friends, and, gentle Rayner, 
Clear up thy cloudy brows and take thy place. 

RAYNER. 

I fain would be excus'd. 

count zaterloo ( 'gently forcing him to fit dozvnj. 

Nay, no excufe : 
Thou mud perforce a focial hour or two 
Spend with us. To ye all, my noble friends, 
I fill this cup. (drinks.) 

Bernard, how goes thy fuit ? 

Haft thou yet to thy greedy Lawyer's pocket 
Convey'd thy hindmoft ducat ? Ha, ha, ha! 
Had he, with arms in hand, ta'en from thee boldly 
Half of the fum, thou would'ft have call'd him 

robber. 
Ha, ha, ha 1 (laughing heartily.) 

BERNARD. 

Yes, thou may'fl laugh : 
C 



18 It A Y.N £ R: 

We nice diftinctions make. — I had an uncle, 
Who once upon a time-; — 

COUNT ZATERLOO, 

I hope, good Bernard, 
Thy ftory will be fhorter than thy fuit. 

(Rayner, who has been fitting in gloomy thoitghu 

fulnefs, without attending to any thing around 

him, whilft Zaterloo has been keeping an eye 

of obfcrvation on him, now rifes up in great 

agitation to go away. J 

count zaterloo; 
What is the matter, Rayner ? 

RAYNER. 

I am diflurb'd — I know not how I am— 
Let me take leave, I pray you. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Thou malt not qait us thus. What is the matter? 

RAYNER. 

QueHion me not : my thoughts are all confus'd : 
There is a ftrong temptation faiteivd on me. 
I am not well. 

count zaterloo ( afide to Bernard).' 
Ay, now it works upon him : 
This will do 

(Aloud and preventing Rayner from gsing.J 
If thou'rt unwell, art thou not with thy friends I 

5 



A T RAGE'DY. 19 

RAYNER. 

If ye indeed are friends, not fpirits enleagu'd 
To force me to my ruin, let me go — 
Let me go to my home. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

What, doft thou call a bare unfurnifh'd chamber, 
With griping Landlord clam'ring in thine ears 
For what he knows thou canft not give, thy home? 

rayner (fighing deeply). 
I have no other. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

St?y thou here with us : 
In the next chamber thou (halt reft a while. 
Lead him, my kind Sebaftian, by the hand : 
There is a fort of woman's kindlinefs 
About thy nature which befits thee bed 
To be a Tick man's friend. I'll follow you. 

(Exit Rayner, leaning on Sebaftian,) — turning 
about to his friends triumphantly as they 
go off. J 
I have fecur'd my man. (A voice heard without.) 
But hark ! a voice without ! It is my mother's. 
Secure the lettic'd door. Plague on her kindnefs 
To haunt me here ! I have forgot my promife. 
(To Bernard.) Make fail the lettic'd door and 

anfwer for me. 
Bernard (after faflening a door of let tic e work 

through which the Countefs is feen). 
Who's there ? what want ye ? 

C 2 



id R A Y N E R : 

countess zaterloo ( without). 
I want my fon : I pray you is he here ? 

BERNARD. 

He is not here. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO ( Without). 

Nay, fay not fo ? I think he is with you. 

tell him I have fat thefe three long hours, 
Counting the weary beatings of the clock, 
Which flowly portion'd out the promis'd time 
That brought him not to blefs me with his fight. 
If he is well, why does he thus forget ? 

And if he is not, as I fear he is not, 

Tell me the woril, and let me be with him 

To fmooth his couch and raife his fickly head. 

count zaterloo ( afide to Bernard). 
Tell her it is unfeemly for a mother 
To run about like a new foolifh wife. 

BERNARD. 

If you complain thus movingly, fair widow, 
We (hall believe you feek a fecond hufband 
In lieu of your good fon j and by my truth 
It were a better errand. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

O bafe of thought, as mod unbleft of fpeech ! 
My fon is not with you : it cannot be : 

1 did him wrong to feek him in fuch company. 



A TRAGEDY. 21 

Bernard (f peaking loud after her as jhe 
retires from the door.) 

Not far from hence, there is a nightly meeting 
Of worthy, fober, well difpofed folks, 
Who once a week do offer up their prayers 
And chant moft faintly hymns till morning dawn, 
It is more likely you will find him there. 

(Omnes laughing.) 



COUNT ZATERLOO. 



She's gone. 



BERNARD. 

Yes, yes ; come from thy hiding place. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Now what a mod unreafonable woman ! 
Thinks fhe, thus ripen'd to thefe manly years, 
That I muft run whene'er my finger aches 
To lean my filly head upon her lap ? 
'Tis well I have no wife. 

BERNARD. 

Ay, fo it is. 
There is no pleafing thofe high legal dames 
With endlefs claims upon a man's regard : 
Heaven fave us from them all ! 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Well, this I drink to precious libertv : 

c 3 



22 RAYNER: 

He is a fool indeed who parts with that. 

(A loud voice and bujiling heard without*) 
What's this comes next to plague us ? 

BERNARD, 

'Tis Mira's voice. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Haft thou not fent to fay, that urgent bus'nefs 
Detains me from her banquet ? 

BERNARD. 

I have ; I fent to her a written meffage. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Keep faft the door and I will (land conceal'd. 
(Conceals him/elf, and Mira appears thro' the 
latticed door.), 

mira (without). 
Where is Count Zaterloo ? Let me pafs on. 

BERNARD. 

Affairs of greateft confequence detain him, 
My beauteous Mira ; and I needs mufl fay 
That now you may not pafs. — > — 
He's much concern' d : early upon the morrow 
He will be with you. 

MIRA. 

Upon the morrow ! prate not thus to me ! 
He fhall to-night go with me where I lift, 



A TRACED Y. 






Or never fee my face again. To morrow ! 
Open the door I fay ! this weakly barrier 
Shall not oppofe my way. 

(Beating violently againfi the door.) 

count zaterloo ( ' afide to Bernard). 
Faith I believe we mud e'en let her in, 
She may do fome ra(h thing, if we perfift. 

(Bernard unbolts the door; Zaterloo conies from 
his concealment; and enter Mira, fi/perbly drefs'd, 
and in a violent pafflon.J 

MIR A. 

Is this the way you keep your promifes ? 
Is this your faith ? is this your gallantry ? 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Mira, my gentle love, I pray thee hear me ! 
I fent to tell thee bus ? nefs of great moment. 

mira. 
Yes, yes ! I have receiv'd your feurvy mefTage* 
And well I know that ev'ry paltry matter 
Is caufe fufficient for neglecting me. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Thou know'li to be from thee is painful to me. 

MIRA. 

So it mould feem, by taking fo much care 
To comfort ye the while, (pointing to the wine 9 &c.) 
You jdo" your bus'nefs joviallv, raethinks. 



24 RAYNER: 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Thou art too warm : accufe me as thou wiit 
Of aught but want of love. 

MIRA. 

O thou deceitful man ! I know thee well : 
Thou talk'ft of love and thou wouldft break my 
heart. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Indeed I am to blame, my gentle love ; 
Yet be not thus : in token of forgivenefs 
This friendly cup receive, and fmile upon me. 
COffering her a cup^ which JJje dajhes to the ground, J 

MIRA. 

Off with thy hateful gifts ! nought from thy hands 
Will I receive ; I fcorn thy offering. 
Ev'n the rich robe thou hafl fo often promis'd me: 
Ay and fo oft forgot, fo I muft call it, 
I would now fcorn, fince thou doff flight my love. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Indeed, my Mira, thou (halt have that robe 
Before two days be pad : I fwear to thee. 
Then do not look fo frowningly, my love ; 
I know thou haft a foft relenting nature ; 
Smile my forgivenefs. 

MIRA. 

O thou provoking man i thou know'fl full well 



ATRAGEDY. i$ 

It is thyfelf and not thy gifts I prize : 
Thou know'ft too well how my fond doating heart 
Is moved with the foft witch'ry of thy tongue ; 
Yet thou wilt vex me thus, and break my heart.. 
Oh ! 'tis too much ! (pretending to burji into tears. J 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

I cannot fee thee weep: what would'fl thou 
have ? 

MIRA. 

I will have nought, unlefs you go with me. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

I cannot now, for I have urgent bus'nefs. 

MIRA. 

Then flay, and never fee my face again. 
O that fome friendly hand would end my days, 
Since I have lived to fee me thus defpis'd. 

count zaterloo (afide to Bernard^. 
Bernard, I think I mud e'en go with her. 
See thou to Rayner : I will foon return. 
(Aloud.) Then let us go, my love, thou doft com- 
pel me. 
Thy hand, fvveet Mira. (Exeunt Zaterloo and Mirz.) 

BERNARD. 

Well, gentle friends, it is bleft liberty 
Our noble chief enjoys. I rnuft to Rayner. 



2.6 RAYNER: 

Stay if you will, and keep ye merry here. 
(Omnes.J No, we are tir'd, we will retire to red, 

(Exeunt, 

SCENE II. Rayner's Lodgings. 
Enter rayner alone. 

RAYNER. 

Be dill, ye idle thoughts that tofs me thus, 
Changing like reftlefs waves, but ever dark ; 
Or one of you above his fellows rife. 
And bear a fteady rule. Adverfity ! 
Thou'ft come upon me like an ambufh'd foe 
In armed ftrengh. If I had mark'd thy courfe, 
I might have girt myfelf for thine approach, 
While diftant (till, and met thee like a man. 
But when new-fetter'd in a lover's bonds, 
And dazzled too with hope's deceitful brightnefs, 
Cam ? ft thou like a thick cloud of defart fand, 
And in dark night o'ei whelm'd me : deeped night, 
Thro' which no waking vifion ever gleams, 
Save thy grim vifage only, loathly want, 
In ail thy varied forms of mifery. 
My night, my day dreams, ah ! how are ye changed, 
Since in the new-betroth'd, the lover's fancy, 
Ye wove your fheeny maze of mingled thoughts, 
Like fparkling dew-webs in the early Sun ! 

(after a paufc.J 
Elizabeth ! methinks ev'n now I fee her, 
As in the horrors of my lad night's dream, 
When^ after following her thro' flood and fire, 



A T R A G E D Y. 27 

She turn'd to me, and her weak arms ftretch'd 

forth. 
But ah ! how changed, how pale, and fpent, and 

keen! 
As if already blighting poverty, 
That portion which her love mud (hare with me, 
Had marr'd— ceafe, ceafe, bafe thought, it (hall not 

be! 

(Enter Herman with a knapfack on his bach % 
as if prepared for a journey,) 
What, my good Herman, art thou fo foon ready ? ' 

HERMAN. 

Yes, my dear mafter, but if you think it too foon, 
I will not go to-day. Nay if it were not that you 
force me to go, I mould as foon have thought of 
deferting my friend (pardon my boldnefs, fir) in a 
wild wood amongfl: favages, as leaving you here in 
this ftrange place in the ftate you are in at prefent. 
Pardon my boldnefs, fir. 

RAYNER. 

Thou haft no boldnefs to pardon, Herman : thou 

- art well entitled to call thyfelf my friend ; there is 

not one amongfl thofe who have borne that name, 

who would have done more for me than thou haft 

done. 

HERMAN. 

Ah fir! 

rayner C 'affumyng a look of cheerfulnefsj. 
Fy, do not look fo fadly upon me, man 5 thanks 



28 RAYNER: 

to thy good nurfing and the good broth thou had 
made me, I am getting ftrong again : and as for the 
Hate of my coffers, for which thou fo much con- 
cerned: thyfelf, do not let that difiurb thee. My 
tide of means is, to be fure, pretty well ebb'd juft 
now ; but fome wind or other will fpring up to fet 
it a flowing again. In the mean time thou knoweft 
1 would travel alone : perhaps I may ramble about 
a little while myfterioufly, like the wandering Jew 
or fome of thofe lonely philofophers which thy old 
ftories tell thee about, and there is no knowing 
what I may find out to do me good. The philofo- 
pher's ftone, thou knoweft, may as well fall into my 
hands as thofe of any other wanderer, fo pray thee, 
man, dont look fo ruefully upon me. 

HERMAN. 

Ah, my dear matter ! there is fomething here that 
hangs heavy on my heart, and fays, if 1 leave you 
now, fome evil will befal you : I befeech you let me 
flay with you, I fhall find fomething to do in this 
town, and 1 can 

RAYNER. 

No, no, no ! Speak of this no more — we have 
argued this point already. And what is this which 
thou puttefh down fo flyly upon the table ? (taking 
up a little packet which Herman has put fecretly upon 
the table,) Ha ! the jewels I have given thee in room 
of thy wages ! out upon it ! thou wilt make me 
angry with thee now, and it grieves me to be angry 



A TRAGEDY. 29 

with thee. Pat it up, put it up : I command thee 
to do it ; and thou knoweft I have not often ufed 
this ftern word. 

HERMAN. 

O no, fir ! You have not indeed ufed it ; and I 
(hall never meet with another mafter like you. 

RAYNER. 

Thou wilt meet, I hope, my dear Herman, with 
a far better mafter than I have been to thee, though 
not with one for whom thou wilt do fo much kindly 
fervice as thou haft done for me; and for this caufe 
perhaps, thou wilt not love him fo much. God 
profper thee for it, wherever thou goeft i — Take 
this embrace and bleffing for all thou haft done for 
me. Farewel ! farewel ! thou muft de gone now ; 
indeed thou muft. God blefs thee, my good Herman. 
(Fujhing Herman gently off' the Jlcige^ who 
wipes his eyes andfeems unwilling to go. J 

Exit Herman. ^ 

rayner (alone). 
Now am I left alone : there's no one near me 
That e'er hath loved or cared for me. Methinks 
I now can better look i'th' furly face 
Mine alter'd ftate, and bear to be in want. 
I am alone, and I am glad of it. 
Alas ! chang'd heart of mine ! what is that ftate 
Which gives to thee fuch thoughts ? — Elizabeth— - 
At it again ! This ftrong idea ftill ! ] 



3o RAYNER: 

I am diffracted when I think of this, 
Therefore 1 muft not, if I would be honeft. 
Thofe men— or are they men or are they devils ? 
With whom I met lafl night ; they've faften'd on 

me. 
Fell thoughts, which, tho* I fpurn them, haunt me 

(till. 
Would I had never met them ! 
Here comes my landlord with his furly face 
Of debts and claims, and ev'ry irkfome thing. 
(Enter Landlord with a letter, J 
Good morrow, Landlord. 

LANDLORD. 

I thank you, fir ; I am glad to hear you call me 
Landlord, for I began to be afraid you had miftaken 
me for your Hofl. 

RAYNER. 

I underfland you well enough, and indeed I have 
proved your patience, or rather your impatience, 
much longer than I wifhed. You have a letter in 
your hand. 

LANDLORD (giving it J. 

There, Sir ; if it bring you the news of any good 
luck, I {ball be glad of it. 

rayner (agitated J, 
From Elizabeth. — Good morning — good morn- 
ifig to you. 



A TRAGEDY. 31 

LANDLORD. 

Read it, fir, and fee if it bring you any good 
news ; it is time now to look for fome change in 
your favour, 

RAYNER. 

I cannot open it whilfl: thou art here. Have the 
goodnefs at lead not to {land fo near me. 

LANDLORD. 

So I muft not occupy a place in my own honfe, 
forfooth, for fear of otfending the good folks who" 
do me the honour to live in it. (retires to the bottom 
of the ft age muttering to himfelf) 



rayner (after opening the letter with great emotion 
and reading it J. 

O what is this ! 

Abandon'd by the friend with whom (he hVd, 
And coming here to join me with all fpeed ! 
O God ! O God ! (finks down upon a chair in 

violent agitation.) 

Landlord, (running up to him). 
What is the matter now ? 



rayner. 
Begone, begone ! I cannot anfwer thee. 



* RAYtfER: 



Enter count zaterloo. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Ha, Rayner ! how is't with thee ? thou look'ft 

wildly. 
(To Landlord.) Speak to me, friend : he heeds not 

what I fay : 
Has any new misfortune happen' d to him ? 

LANDLORD. 

I fear there has, fir. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Roufe thee up, brave Rayner., 
A friend is come to thee. 

rayner CJiarting up J . 
Ha, is it thee ? 
Com'ft thou upon me now, my tempter ? now, 
Ev'n in my very moment of diffraction ? 
Thou know'ft thy time : fome fiend has whifper'd 

to thee. 
Ay, ay ! fay what thou wilt. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Thou'rt furely mad ; I came not, on my word. 
To fay aught to thee which an honefl ear 
Might not receive ; nor will I even fpeak, 
Since it fo mov.es thee ■■ 
2 



A TRAGEDY. 33 

rayner (interrupting him eagerly). 
Ah, but thou mud ! 
Thou mud fpeak that, which, in its daikePc hour, 
Pufh'd to extremity, 'midft: ringing dizzinefs 
The ear of defperation doth receive, 
And I muft liften to it. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

What, fay'fl thou fo ? 'Tis well (afide), but be- 
more prudent, 
We are o'erheard. ( looking fufpicioujly to Landlord, 
who has retired a few paces behind.) 
Come with me to my lodgings ; 
There wait my friends; all things mail be concerted : 
Come with me inflantly ; the time is precious. 

rayner (in a tone of defpair^ clafping his hands 

vehemently). 
Ay, ay ! I'll go with thee. 

(Exeunt Count Zaterloo and Rayner : 
Manet Landlord. 

landlord ( coming forward) . 
What's this I've overheard ? Is this devil now 
going to tempt the poor diftrefled young man to do 
fome foul deed in his neceflity ? — I have tempted 
him too, with my hard-hearted murmuring about 
the few wretched pounds that he owes me. Til 
run after him and fay, I don't care whether he pay 
me or not. (running to the door and then flopping 

D 



34 RAYNER: 

Jhort.J No, no ! foftly, foftly ! I dare fay it is only 
fome fharping bufinefs they have got on hand, fuch 
as needy Gentlemen are fometimes forced to follow: 
I have got my confcienee newly cleared off at con- 
feflion lafl week, and I am to make an offering next 
holy-day to the fhrine of our patron St. Bernard ; 
this is no time, goodfooth, to lofe fuch a fum upon 
fcrupies. (Exit. 



END OF THE FIRST ACT, 



A TRAGEDY. 3j 

ACT II. 

SCENE I. A wood: dark night, with a pale gleam 
of diflant lightning feen once or twice on the edge 
of the horizon. Advancing by the bottom of the ft age* 
a few moving lights, as if from lanthorns, are feen, 
and at the fame time fever al fignal calls and loud 
whiftles are heard, with the diflant anfwer returned 
to them from another fart of the wood: Enter 
Count Zaterloo, Rayner, Sebaftian, and others of 
the band, armed, and a few of them bearing in their 
hands dark lant horns. It is particularly requefted 
if this play jhould ever be acled, that no light may 
he permitted upon the ft age but that which proceeds 
from the lanthorns only. 

count zaterloo (to Sebaftian). 
They mud be near; didft thou not hear their 
call ? 

SEBASTIAN. 

Methought I did ; but who in this wild wood 
May credit give to either eye or ear ? 
How oft we've been deceiv'd with our own voices, 
From rocky precipice or hollow cave, 
'Midft the confufed found of ruftling leaves, 
And creaking boughs, and cries of nightly birds, 
Returning feeming anfwer ! 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Rayner, where ftandeft thou ? 

D2 



36 R A Y N E R: 

RAYNER. 

Here, on thy left. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Surely thefe wild fcenes have depriv'd thy tongue 
Of fpeech. Let's hear thy voice's found, good man, 
To fay thou art alive. Thou'rt marvellous filent : 
Didft thou not alfo hear them ? 

RAYNER. 

I know not truly if I did. Around me, 
All feems like the dark mingled mimicry 
Of fev'rifh fleep ; in which the half-doubting mind, 
Wilder'd and weary, with a deep-drawn breath, 
Says to itfelf, " Shall I not wake ?" 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Fy, man ! 
Wilt thou not keep thy foldier's fpirit up ? 
To-morrow's fun will be thy waking time, 
And thou wilt wake a rich man and a free. 

RAYNER. 

My waking time ! — no, no ! I muft fleep on, 
And have no waking. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Ha ! does thy mind mifgive thee on the brink ? 

RAYNER. 

What pafTes in my mind, to thee is nothing, 
7- 



A TRAGEDY. 37 

If my hand do the work that's faften'd on me. 
Let's pafs to it as quickly as thou wilt, 
And do not fpeak to me. 

Enter Bernard and others, armed, &c. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Well met, my friends ! well met ! for we 
defpair'd 
Of ever feeing you. 

SEBASTIAN. 

Yet we have heard your voices many times, 
Now calling us on this fide, now on that, 
As tho' you had from place to place ftill fkipp'd, 
Like Will o'the Wifp, to lofe us on our way. 

BERNARD. 

We've far'd alike : fo have we thought of you. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Have you difcover'd aught of thofe we feek ? 

BERNARD. 

No ; all is ftill, as far as we have travers'd : 
No gleaming torch gives notice from afar, 
Nor trampling hoofs found on the diftant road. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Then muft we take again our fev'ral routs, 
That haply we may learn, ere he approach, 

D3 



35 RAYNER: 

What ftrengh we have to face,* and how he travels : 
And that we may not wander thus again, 
This aged oak mall be our meeting place ; 
Where having join'd, we'll by a morter compafs 
Attack them near the centre of the wood. 



SEBASTIAN. 

The night grows wond'rous dark : deep-fwelling 
gufts 
And fultry ftillnefs take the rule by turns ; 
Whilft o'er our heads the black and heavy clouds 
Roll flowly on. This furely bodes a ftorm. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

I hope the devil will raife no temped now, 
To fave this child of his, and from his journey . 
Make him turn back, croffmg our fortunes. 

BERNARD. 

Fear not ! 
For, be the tempeft of the devil's railing, 
It will do thee no harm. To his good favour 
Thou haft (wrong not thy merit) claims too flrong. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Then come on, friends, and I mall be your 
warrant ! 
Growl fky and earth and air, ne'er trouble ye ; 
They are fecure who have a friend at court. 

8 (Exeunt. 



A TRAGEDY. 39 

SCENE II. A different part of the wood, wild and 
favage : the Scene fill darken d, and a Jlorm of 
thunder and lightning, accompanied with hail* 

Enter rayner. 

RAYNER. 

I know not where thefe men have fhelter'd them. 
I've mifs'd their fignal : this loud (tunning din 
Devours all other founds. Where fhall I go ? 
Athwart this arch of deep embodied darknefs, 
Swift fhiv'ring lightnings glare, from end to end 
Mantling the welkin o'er in vivid flames ; 
Or from aloft, like fheeted cataracts 
Of liquid fire, feem pour'd. Ev'n o'er my head 
The foft and mifty-textur'd clouds feem chang'd 
To piles of harden'd rocks, which from their bafe, 
Like the up-breaking of a ruin'd world, 
Are hurl'd with force tremendous. Patt'ring hail 
Beats on my fhrinking form with fpiteful pith : 
Where (hall I fhelter me ? Ha ! thro' the trees 
Peers, near at hand, a fmall but fettled light : 
1 will make quickly towards it ; perhaps 
There may be fome lone dwelling in the wood. 

(Exit. 

SCENE III. The hifide of a cave : an Old man 
difcover'd fitting by a fmall table made of coa'fs 
planks, with a lamp burning dimly upon it ; the 
thunder heard fill very loud, 

OLD MAN. 

Doth angry heav'n flill roll its loudefl peal 
D 4 



40 RAYNER: 

O'er th' unbleft head ! Ay, thro' its deaf'ning roar 

1 hear the blood-avenging Spirit's voice, 

And, as each furious turmoil fpends its ftrength, 

Still founds upon the far-receding florm 

Their diftant growl. 

'Tis hell that fends its fire and devils up 

To lord it in the air. The very wind, 

Rifing in fitful eddies, horribly founds, 

Like burfts of damn'd howlings from beneath. 

Is this a florm of nature's elements ? 

O, no, no, no ! the blood-avenging fpirits 

Ride on the madding clouds : there is no place, 

Not in the wildefl den, wherein may reft; 

The unbleft head. (Knocking heard without. J 

Ha ! knocking at my door ! 

(Paufes and liftens much alarmed: knocking 
heard JIM louder.) 
Say, who art thou that knock'fl fo furioufly ? 
Think'fl thou the clouds are fparing of their din, 
That thou mufl thunder too ? Say who thou art, 
And what thou would'fl at fuch an hour as this, 
In fuch a place ? 

RAYNER (without). 

I am a lone, and tempeftVbeaten traveller, 
Who humbly begs a fhelter from the night. 

OLD MAN. 

Then art thou come where gueft yet never 
enter' d. 



A TRAGEDY. 41 

RAYNER (without J. 

I do not afk admittance as a gueft. 
Would'ft thou not fave a creature from deftru&ion, 
Ev'n a dumb animal ? unbar the door, 
And let me lay my body under fhelter. 

(Old man makes no anfwer ; the Jiorm heard 
very loud, J 

RAYNER (without J. 

If thou'rt a man in nature as in voice, 
Thou canfl not fit at peace beneath thy roof, 
And (hut a ftranger out to the rude night. 
I would, fo circumflanced, have fhelter'd thee. 

OLD MAN. 

He tries to move me with a foothing voice. 

(Afide.J > 
{Aloud.) Thou art a knave ; I will not let thee in. 

RAYNER (without). 

Belike lam, yet do not fear my wiles : 
All men are honeft in a night like this. 

OLD MAN. 

Then I will let thee in : whoe'er thou art, 
Thou haft fome fenfe, fhouldft thou lack better 
things. (He unbars a J mall door, and Rayner 
enters much ruffled and exhausted by the 
Jiorm and without his hat.) 

RAYNER. 

I'm much beholden to thee. 



42 RAYNER: 

OLD MAN. 

No, thou art not. 

RAYNER. 

The violence of the night muft plead my pardon. 
For breaking thus unafk'd upon your reft. 
But wand'ring from my way, I know not how, 
And loflng my companions of the road, 
Deep in the 'tangled wood the ftorm o'ertook me ; 
When fpying thro' the trees this glimmering lamp, 
And judging it, as now it doth appear, 
The mid-night taper of fome holy man, 
Such as do oft in dreary wilds like this 
Hold their abode, I ventur'd onwards. 

(Old Man, offering him bread and dried fruits*) 

OLD MAN. 

Perhaps thou'rt hungry. 

RAYNER. 

I thank you gratefully. 

OLD man. 
There is no need. 
Fall to, if thou haft any mind to it. 

RAYNER. 

I thank you truly, but I am not hungry. 

OLD MAN. 

Perhaps thou'rt dainty : I've naught elfe to give 
thee. 



A TRAGEDY. /w 

RAYNER. 

I fhould defpife myfelf, if any food 
Could bear fuch value in my eftimation, 
As that it mould to me a ftraw's worth feem, 
To feed on homelieft, or on richefl fare. 

OLD MAN. 

So much the better. (They fit down.) 

RAYNER. 

If I may guefs from all I fee around me, 
The luxuries and follies of the world 
Have long been banifh'd here. 

(Old Man looks fternly at Rayner, who looks 
fixedly upon him again, and both remain for 
fome time ft 'lent, ) 

OLD MAN. 

Why look'ft thou fo ? 
What is there in my face that thou would'ft (can ? 
I'm old and live alone : what would'fl thou know ? 

RAYNER. 

I crave your pardon, and reprefs all wifhes 

That may difturb you. 

i 

OLD MAN. 

The night wears on, let us both go to reft, 

RAYNER. 

I thank you, for in truth I'm very tir'd. 



44 RAYNER: 

old man (pointing to his couch J. 
There is thy place. 

RAYNER. 

Nay, I am young; the ground fhall be my couch. 
I will not take your bed. 

(Old Man then gives Rayner a cloak , which he 
wraps about him 9 laying himfelf down in a 
corner of the cave. Thejlorm now heard at 
a diftance. After walking up and down for 
fome time, the Old Man goes clofe up to 
Rayner, who appears afteep, and looks ear- 
nejlly upon him ; Rayner opening his eyes 
feems furprifed.J 

OLD MAN. 

Be not afraid, I will not cut thy throat. 

rayner (ft ar ting half up from the ground). 
Nay, heaven fuch deed forfend ! I fear thee not: 
I can defend myfelf. (Grafping his fword.) 

OLD MAN. 

Be not offended ; but methought thy looks 
Did feem as tho' thou wert afraid of me. 
Reft thou in peace — reft thou in peace, young 

man : 
I would not do thee harm for many worlds. 

(Rayner goes to reft again, ft ill keeping his 
drawn fword in his hand. The Old Man 
goes to reft likewife, but jhortly after ft arts 
from his couch in great agitation.) 



A T R A G E D Y. 45 



OLD MAN. 

It is mine hour of horror : 'tis upon me 1 
I hear th' approaching found of feet unearthly : 
I feel the pent-up vapour's chilly breath 
Bur ft from the yawning vault : — It is at hand* 

(Turning towards the door as if he Jaw fome one 
enter.) 
Ha ! com'ft thou (till in white and fheeted weeds, 
With hand thus pointing to thy bloody fide ? 
Thy grave is deep enough in hallow'd ground ! 
Why com'ft thou ever on my midnight reft ? 
What doft thou want ? If thou haft power, as 

feeming, 
Stretch forth thine arm and take my life ; then free 
From flefhy fears, in nature as thyfelf, 
I'll follow thee to hell, and there abide 
The fearing flames : but here, upon this earth, 
Is placed between the living and the dead 
An awful my fiery of reparation, 
Which makes their meeting frightful and unhallow'd. 
(In the vehemence of his agitation he throws out 
his arm and Jirikes it againjl Rayner, who 
alarmed at his ravings has left his refling-place, 
and fiolen foftly behind him. J 
Ha ! what art thou ? (ftarting and turning round 

to Rayner.) 

RAYNER. 

Nay, thou with bridling locks, loofe knocking 
joints 



4 6 RAYNER: 

And fixed eyeballs darting in their fockets, 
Who fpeak'ft thus wildly to the vacant fpace, 
Say rather, what art thou. , .* 

OLD MAN. 

I am a murderer, (Rayneryfor/j back from him 

and drops hisfzvord.J 

Ah ! wherefore doft thou flare fo ftrangely on me? 
There's no blood on me now ! 'tis long fince paft f 
Haft thou thyfelf no crime, that thus from me 
Thou doft in horror fhrink ? 

RAYNER. . 

Moft miferable man ! 

OLD MAN. 

Thou truly fay'ft, for I am miferable. 

RAYNER. 

And what am I ? (After a diflurbed paufc.) 
The ftorm did rage and bellow thro' the air, 
And the red lightning fhiver'd : 
No traveller would venture on his way 
In fuch a night. — O, blefled, bleffed ftorm ! 
For yet it hath not been, and fhall be never. 
Moft Great and Merciful ! fav'd from this gulf, 
May I to thee look up ? — No : in the duft — 

(As he boivs him/elf to the earthy and is abom 
kneel, the report of fire-arms is heard without* 
and he Jl arts up again.) 
'Tis done ! — O, it is done ! — the horrible act ! 

(Exit, beating his forehead violently.) 



A" T R A G E D Y. 47 



OLD MAN. 

What may this be ? fome band of nightly robbers 
Is near my cave, committing violent deeds. 
Thy light, weak flame, fhall not again betray me, 
And lure unwelcome vifitors. ( Puts out the lamp; 
and after a dark paufe, enter Count Zaterloo 
fupporting himfelf on Firfl Gentleman, who 
bears a dark lantern^ which he Jets down on 
the ground, and faftens the door of the cave 
carefully behind them. ) 



COUNT ZATERLOO. 

I am wounded grievoufly : who would have 
thought 
Of fuch a powerful guard of armed men 
Attending on his journey. He is flain : 
Did'ft thou not fee him fall ? 



FIRST GENTLEMAN. 

Yes ; we have kili'd our bird, but loft the eggs. 
Fortune has play'd us faife, yet we've efcap'd : 
Here we may reft ; this cave is tenanted 
With fome lone being whom we may controul, 

And take poffeffion (difcovering Old Man.) 

Something living here ! 

What art thou ? 

OLD MAN. 

I am a thing no better than yourfelves. 



48 RAYNER: 

FIRST GENTLEMAN. 

The better then for thee that thou art fo. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Conduct me onward : I perceive an opening 
"Which leads, I guefs, to fome more clofe recefs : 
Lay me down there for I am very faint. 

FIRST GENTLEMAN. 

I will obey thee, — Come thou too, old man ; 
Not from my fight one moment mud thou budge. 
Come on : for, mark me well, fhould'ft thou betray 

us, 
Tho* fetter'd down with chains in grated dungeons, 
Our arms were long enough to reach to thee. 

(Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. Another part of the wood ; at a dif 
tance, on the back ground, are difcovered two men 
watching a dead body by the light of a torch Jiuck 
between the boughs of a tree ; the Jiage otherwife 
perfeclly dark. 

Enter gob us on the front of the ftage. 

gobus. 
I fear they will all efcape from us amongft thefe 
'tangled paths and vile perplexing thickets. A man 
cannot get on half a dozen paces here but fome 
curfed clawing thing catches hold of him, and 
when he turns round to collar his enemy, with a 
good hearty curfe in his mouth, it is nothing but a 



A TRAGEDY. 49 

thorn-bufli or a briar after all. A plague upon't ! 
I'll run no more after them if they mould never be 
taken. — Who's there ? 

Enter a Companion. 

COMPANION. 

What, are you here, Gobus ? I thought you 
had been in fearch of the robbers. 

GOBUS. 

So I was ; but what does it fignify ? they have all 
got the ftart of us now, and we can fcarcely ex- 
pect they will have the civility to wait till we come 
up with them. 

COMPANION. 

Ay, Ay, Gobus, that is a lazy man's argument. 
Why, there was one of them feen by Bertram not 
five minutes fince, with his head uncovered, {talk- 
ing ftrangely amongft the trees like a madman, and 
he vows he will follow the fcent through every path 
of the wood but he will have him, either alive or 
dead. 

GOBUS. 

But if he be a young (tout robber, he may knock 
Bertram on the head in the mean time, and relieve 
him from the obligation of keeping his vow. . 

COMPANION. 

Never fear that r his bugle-horn is by his fide, 
and as foon as he comes up with him he will give 



50 R A Y N E R: 

his companions notice, and they will run to his 
afii fiance. 



GOBUS. 

Weil, well, let them manage it the bell way they 
can, and let us join our friends yonder, who keep 
watch by the body ; there is good (lore of dried 
flicks in that corner, we may make a fire and warm 
ourfelves till they return. 

(Horn heard without. J 

COMPANION. 

Ha ! there is the fignal, and clofe at hand too. 
He has caught his man and wants afliflance ; let 
us run to him, or the villain will efcape. 

(Exeunt Companion and Gobus, who follows 
rather umiillingly ^ whilji the men who were 
watching the body rim eagerly to the front of 
theflage.) 

FIRST MAN. 

It founded to the right hand of us ; let us flrike 
into this path. ( 'Horn founds again. J 

SECOND MAN. 

Ay, there it founds again ; it is to this hand of 
us, but it is fo dark there is no finding our way. 

FIRST MAN. 

We have been fo long by the torch-light that 
the darknefs is darker to us: run back and 



A TRAGEDY. 5?i 

fetch the light with thee. (Several other attend- 
ants from different parts of the wood run acrofs 
the fiage, calling to one another with great 
eagernefs, whilji the Second Man running 
back again to the bottom of the flage^fnatches 
the torch from the tree, and comes forward 
with it. 

Enter Bertram, Gobus, and others, with Rayner 
as their pr if oner. J 

gob us ffpeaking as they enter J, 
Here is light ! here is light, friends ! bring him 
near it, I pray you, that we may fee what kind of 
a fifh we have caught in our net. Ay, juft as I 
laid now, as hang'd a looking villain as ever 
fcowl'd thro' the grates of a dungeon. See what 
a wild murderous look he has with his eyes ! this 
is the very man that did the deed I warrant ye. 
Let us pull the cords falter round his arms tho' : if 
he get one of his mifchievous hands loofe again 5 
there is no knowing which of our brains he may 
knock out firft. 

first Man. 
It will never be thine, I am fure, thou'rt always 
fafe when the knocking out of brains is going on. 

GOBUS. 

As I'm a finner he'll get one of his hands loofe 

if we do not take care of him. (Attempting to 

tighten the cords round Rayner' J arms. J 

E2 . 



RAYNER: 

Bertram (putt big him away with indignation). 
For fhame, man, he is bound tight enough ; I 
will not fuffer thee to lay a finger upon him : and 
as for the hang'd face thou talk'ft of, alack a day! 
it goes to my heart to fee him, fuch a goodly-look- 
ing gentleman, for fuch I'll be fworn,he is. 

GOBUS. 

Ay, no doubt \ it is ever thus with thee. Thou 
did'fl never in thy life fee a thief go to the gal- 
lows without crying out, " alack a day ! what a 
fine looking fellow it is !" Ay, and if he could but 
make (hift to howl out half a verfe of a pfalm along 
with his father confeflbr, thou wert fure to knotch 
him down upon thy holiday tables as one of the. 
new made faints. Ay, there be no fuch great 
faints now-a-days as thofe who pafs, with the help 
of a Dominican, thro' the hangman's hands to the 
other world ; he beats your pope and your cardi- 
nals all to nothing in fmuggling a fmner cleverly in 
by the back door to heaven. 

BERTRAM. 

So much the better for thee ; it is the only 
.chance thou hail of ever getting there. — Stand off, 
I fay (jiujhing Gobus away), and do not flare thus 
upon the prifoner ! art thou not afham'd to (tare in 
an unhappy man's face after this fafiiion ? we don*t 
know what hard fate may have brought him into 
thefe circumitances (to the attendants). Move on; 
we are lofing time here. 



A TRAGE D'Y, 55 

GOBUS. 

What, will you not pinion him more clofely ? 

BERTRAM. 

No, beaft ! I would rather flea the Ikin off that 
fool's back of thine than gall a hair's breadth of his 
body in a-foftened voice to Rayner). Speak, Sir, 
if the rope hurts your arms ; we will not ufe you 
cruelly. 

RAYNER. 

What did'fl thou fay to me ? was there kindnefe 
in thy voice? 

BERTRAM. 

Yes, Sir, there was kindnefs in it. Do the 
ropes hurt your arms ? if they do we will Ioofen 
them a little. 

RAYNER. 

I will not that my arms were bound : but if thou 
haft any kindnefs in thee, give me a drink of water 
when thou can'fl get it, for my mouth is very 
parched. 

BERTRAM. 

Yes, Sir, that you fhall not want, tho' I fhould 
pay gold for it. — Move on, comrades : the night 
is far advanced, and we muft guard the prifoner and 
the dead body of our matter back to the city before 
the morning break. 

(Exeunt.) 

END OF THE SECOND ACT. 

i ' ■• 
E3 



54 R A Y N E R: 



ACT III. 

A Jpacious court with a magnificent building in front : 
a great concourfe of people are difcovered as if 
waiting in expeclation of fome fight. 

FIRST CROWD. 

1 he court is marvelloufly long of breaking up ; 
I'm tir'd of waiting ; and yet I don't like to lofe 
the fight, after having flay'd fo long for it. 

SECOND CROWD. 

I fear it will go hard with the young man, 

THIRD CROWD. 

I fear it will, poor gentleman ! 

WOMAN CROWD. 

Ah ! poor young man ! it is an awful end. 

SECOND CROWD. 

Ay, I remember well the lad criminal that was 
condemned here ; a ftrong-built man he was, tho' 
fomewhat up in years. O, how pale he looked as 
they led him out from court ! I think I flood upon 
this very fpot as he paffed by me \ and the fixed 



A TRAGEDY. 55 

ftrong look of his features too — It was a piteous 
fight ! 

THIRD CROWD. 

Ah, man ! but that was nothing to the execution, 
I paid half a dollar for a place near the fcafFold ; and 
it would have made any body's heart drop blood 
to have feen him when he lifted up the handker- 
chief from his eyes, and took his lad look of the 
day-light, and all the living creatures about him. 

SECOND CROWD. 

Ay, man, that a human creature mould be thus 
thruft out of the world by human creatures like 
himfelf j it is a piteous thing ! 

( Enter a man from the court*) 

omnes (eagerly). 
What news ? what news of the prifoner ? 

MAN, 

He has juft finifhed his defence, in which he has 
acquitted himfelf fo nobly, fetting off his words too 
with fuch a manly grace, that it is thought by every 
body he will be fet free. 

SECOND CROWD. 

Indeed ! I fhould not have expected this now j 
fpoke fo nobly fay'ft thou ? 

FIRST CROWD. 

Ye$, yes, noble blood makes noble fpeaking. 
E4 



^6 RAYNER: 

WOMAN CROWD. 

Well, and is it not beft fo ? poor young man ! 
I'm fure I'm glad of it. 

FIRST CROWD. 

And an't I fo too, milk-fac'd doll ! tho' I hate 
to be kept fo long flaring for nothing. I wonder 
what brought me here in a murrain to it ! 

SECOND WOMAN. 

La ! then we fhan't fee him pafs by with the 
chains upon his legs. 

FIRST CROWD. 

No, no ! nor nothing at all. Come let me pafs, 
1 have been too long here. (Prejfing through the 

crowd to get out*) 

WOMAN CROWD. 

O, you tread upon my toes ! 

FIRST CROWD. 

Devil take you and your toes both ! can't you 
keep them out of people's way then ! 

WOMAN CROWD. 

Plague take it ! what had we all to do to come 
here like fo many fools ! 

(Enter afecond Man from the court.) 

SECOND CROWD. 

Here comes another man from the court (calling 
to the man). Ho, friend ! is he acquitted yet ? 



A TRAGEDY. 



SECOND MAN. 

Nor, nor like to be ; the judge is juft: about to 

pronounce fentence upon him, but fomething came 

fo cold over my heart I could not flay to hear it. 

(Several of the mob climb eagerly up upon the 

walls of the buildings and look in at the win-' 

dows.) 

crowd C below J. 
What do you fee there, firs ! 

crowd (above J. 
The judge is juft rifen from his feat, and the 
black fignal is lifted up. 

OMNES. 

Hufli! hufh! and let us liflen! (A deep paufe.) 

crowd (above). 
Sentence is pad now. 

crowd (below). 
God have mercy on him i 

THIRD CROWD. 

I would not wear my head upon his moulders for 
all the prince's coffers. 

FIRST CROWD. 

Alas ! poor man ! he is but a youth. 



58 RAYNER : 

SECOND CROWD. 

Yet he muft be cut off in the flower of his days, 

FIRST CROWD. 

It is an awful thing ! 

WOMAN CROWD. 

Ah ! but a youth, and a goodly-looldng youth 
too, I warrant ye. 

SECOND WOMAN. 

Alack a-day ! many a one falls into crimes, but 
all do not pay the forfeit. 

THIRD CROWD. 

Ha ! who comes this way fo fair and fo gentle in 
her mein ; thus tofs'd and 'tangled amidft the prefT- 
ing crowd, like a (talk of wild flower in a bed of 
nettles ? Come, clear the way there, and let the 
lady pafs. 

Enter Elizabeth attended by Richard, the crowd 
making way for her, 

ELIZABETH. 

I'm much obliged to you. 

RICHARD. 

We thank you, good Sirs ! My miftrefs and I 
are both flrangers in this town, and the neareft 
way to your beft inn, as we are told, is thro' this 



A TRAGEDY. 59 

court ; but the crowd is fo great I think we had 
better turn back again. 

ELIZABETH. 

What is the meaning of this eager multitude, 
So gather'd round the entry to this palace? 

THIRD CROWD. 

It is no palace, madam, but a public court : there 
is a gentleman of noble birth who is jufl now con- 
demned to death for murder, and we are waiting 
to fee him led forth from his trial ; you had better 
flop a little while and fee the fight too. 

ELIZABETH. 

O, no ! I'm come here in an evil hour ! — A 
g-entleman of noblte birth — Alas ! but that the crime 
is murder 'twere mod piteous. 

omnes ( 'eagerly J. 
There he comes ! fee, fee ! there he comes I 
Enter Rayner, fettered and guarded from the courts 
followed by Bertram and others , and advances 
flowly towards the front of the flage, the crowd 
opening and making a lane for him on every fide, 

first crowd. 
What a noble gait he has even in his (hackles ! 

SECOND CROWD. 

Oh ! oh ! that fuch a man mould come to this ! 

Elizabeth (after gazing eagerly at the diftant frU 
f oner J. 
Merciful heaven ! the form has ftrong refemblance. 



60 R A Y N E R: 



RICHARD. 

Sweet miftrefs, be not terrified with forms ; 
'Tis but a diftant form. 

ELIZABETH. 

Ha ! then it flrikes thee too ! — Merciful God ! 

RICHARD. 

Patience, dear madam ! now as he advances, 
We fhall be certified of the deception. 
Rayner is not fo tall as this young man, 
Nor of a make fo {lender ; no, nor yet — — 

ELIZABETH. 

Peace, peace ! for he advances. (Watching the 
prifoner as he advances with a countenance of 
dijlracled eagernefs, till he comes near her ; 
then, uttering a loud for iek, falls down, and 
is fuf ported by Richard and federal of the^ 
crowd. J 

officer (conducing Rayner). 
What fainting maid is this obftructs the way ? 
Let not the crowd fo clofely prefs around her. 
Open the way, and let the pris'ner pafs. 

rayner (upon the crowd opening and dif covering 
Elizabeth). 
O, fight of mifery ! my Elizabeth ! 
The laft and fellefl ftroke of angry heaven 
Falls on this curfed head. 



ATRAGEDY. 61 



OFFICER. 

What may this mean ? let us pafs on : we flop not 
Whate'er betide. 

RAYNER. 

Nay, but you do : for here there is a power 
Stronger than law or judgment. Give me way : 
It is permitted me by ev'ry fenfe 
Of human fympathy, were I ev'n bound 
With chains tenfold enlock'd. ( Bending over 

Elizabeth.) 
Thou lovelieft, and thou deareft ! O thou part 
Of my mod inmofl felf ! art thou thus ftricken ? 
Falls this ftroke on thee ? (Kneeling down and en- 
deavouring to fitp fort her, but folding himfelf 
prevented by his chain. J 
Is there not flrength in the foul's agony 
To burft e'en bands of iron. (Trying furioujly to 
burft his fetters y but cannot; then with afub- 
dued voice) 
Am I indeed a bafe condemned wretch, 
Cut off from ev'ry claim and tie of nature ? 

(Turning to the officer.) 
Thou who doft wear the law's authority^ 
May it not be permitted for the love 
Of piteous charity ? — Shall ftrangers' hands 
Whilft I am thus — O, do not let it be ! 

OFFICER. 

No, no ! move on : it cannot be permitted. 



A RAYNER: 

rayner (fiercely rot fed J. 
Whatj fay'ft thou fo ? (Turning to the crow'd.J 
-Ye who furround me too, 



Each with the form and countenance of a man, 
Say ye 'tis not permitted ? 
To you I do ftretch forth thefe fetter'd hands, 
And call you men : O, let me not mifcall you ! 

VOICES FROM THE CROWD. 

Fie, on't ! unbind his hands, unbind his hands, 
And we will ftand his fureties. 

Bertram fiepping forward in a f implicating po/lure 

to the officer J. 
Do but unbind his hands a little fp?.ce, 
And moot me thro' the head if he efcape. 
My arm fecured him ; be my recompenfe 
This one requeft. 

officer (to Bertram). 
Go to ; thou art a brave man but a weak one, 
(To the guard J Move on : we halt no longer. 

c RO WD. 

By all good faints we Hand by the brave Bertram, 
And he fhall be unftiackled. (Menacingly. J 

OFFICER. 

Soldiers, prefent your mufkets to thefe madmen, 
And let them fpeak; the pris'ner halts no longer; 
Move on. (A tumult between the crowd and the 

guard 9 and Rayner is forced off thejiage by 

thefoldiers.) 



A TRAGEDY. 63 

FIRST CROWD. 

Shame light on fuch hard-hearted cruelty ! 

SECOND CROWD. 

If there had been but fix of us with arms in our 
hands he durft not have put this affront upon us. 

THIRD CROWD. 

But who looks to the lady ? She is amongft 
ftrangers it feems, and has only this poor old man 
to take care of her. 

OMNES. 

We will take care of her then; we will take 
care of her : ay, and (he fhall be waited upon like 
an emprefs. 

SECOND CROWD. 

Ay, fo fhe fhall, let the cofl be what it will. I 
am only a poor cobler, God knows, yet I will pawn 
the lad awl in my flail but fhe fhall be waited upon 
like an emprefs. See ! fee ! fhe begins to revive 
again. 

Elizabeth (opening her eyes with a heavy figh). 
Is it all vanifh'd ? 'twas a dreadful vifion ! 

(Losk'mg on the crowd around her. J 
O, no ! the crowd is here flill — it is real - 9 
And he is led away — horrible ! horrible ! 

(Faints again, and is carried off the ft age by 
Richard and the crowd.) 



6* RAYNER: 

SCENE II. A fquare court, fur rounded on all fides 
by the gloomy walls of a prifon, the windows of 
which' are narrow and grated, and the heads of one 
or two of 'the prif oners feen looking ruefully through 
the grates* 

Enter Hardibrand, and looks round him forfome 
time without Jpeaking. 

HARDIBRAND. 

Gloomy enough, gloomy enough in faith I 
Ah ! what a wond'rous mafs of dreary walls, 
Whofe frowning fides are reft in narrow flips 
As I have feen full oft fome fea-worn cliff, 
Pierc'd with the murky holes of favage birds. 
Ah ! here the birds within are dipt o' wing, 
And cannot fly away. 

( Enter Ohio with a tankard in his hand, cr off- 
ing the Ji age.) 
Holla, my friend ! I pray thee not fo faft ; 
Inform me, if thou canfl, where I may find 
The keeper of the prifon. 

OHIO. 

Know you what prince you fpeak to ? faucy 

knave ! 
1*11 have thee fcorch'd and flead, and piece-meal 

torn, 
If thou dofl call me friend. 

HARDIBRAND. 

Good words at leaft \ I meant thee no offence. 
I fee thou haft a tankard in thy hand, 



A TRAGEDY. 6$ 

And will not queftion thy high dignity. 

Softly ; here's money for thee. (Giving him money.) 

OHIO. 

Silver pieces ! 
He ! he ! he ! he ! haft thou got more of them ? 



HARDIBRAND. 

Nay, thou art greedy ; anfwer firft my queftion; 
Tell me at which of all thefe gloomy doors 
I needs muft knock to find out the chief jailor. 
Thou look'ft likefome fetch^carry to the prifonersj 
t)oft underftand me ? 

OHIO. 

Ay> there's the place, go knock at yonder door. 

hardibrand (after knocking). 
This door is clofe nail'd up, and cannot open. 

ohio (grinning malicioujly, and pointing to another 
door.) 

No, thou art wrong ; it is the door hard by, 
With thofe black portals. (Hardibrand knocks at 

the other door.) 
Knock a little louden 

hardibrand ( after knocking fdme time)* 
A plague upon't ! there is no one within. 



66 RAYNER: 



ohio (JIM grinning malicioufly ) . 
No, thou art wrong again, it is not there } 
It is that door upon the other fide. 

(Pointing to the oppojite wall. J 

HARDIBRAND. 

What, doft thou jeft with me, malicious varlet 
I'll beat thee if thou tell'ft me falfe again. 

OHIO. 

Negroes be very flupid, matter friend. 

Enter the Keeper of the Prifon. 

keeper (to Ohio). 
Thou canker-worm ! thou black-envenom'd toad! 
Art thou a playing thy malicious tricks ? 
Get from my fight, thou pitchy viper, go ! 

(Exit Ohio.) 

HARDIBRAND. 

What black thing is it I it appears, methinks, 
Not worth thine anger. 

KEEPER. 

That man, may't pleafe you, Sir, was born a prince. 

HARDIBRAND. 

I do not catch thy jeft. 



A TRAGEDY. 67 

KEEPER. 

I do not jeft, I fpeak in fober earned ; 
He is an Afric prince of royal line. 

HARDIBRAND. 

What fay'ft thou ! that poor wretch who fneaketh 
yonder 
Upon thofe two black flianks ? (Pointing off the 

Jiage.) 

KEEPER. 

Yes, even he : 
When but a youth, ftorn from his noble parents, 
He for a Have was fold, and many hardfhips 
By fea and land hath pafs'd. 

HARDIBRAND. 

And now to be the bafe thing that he is I 
Well, well, proceed. 

KEEPER. 

At laft a furly mafter brought him here, 
Who, thinking him unfit for further fervice, 
As then a feft'ring wound wore hard upon him, 
With but a fcanty fum to bury him, 
Left him with me. He ne'erthelefs, recover'd ; 
And tho' full proud and fullen at the firft, 
Tam'd by the love of wine which flrongly tempts 

him, 
He by degrees forgot his princely pride, 

F2 



6f> RAYNER: 

And has been long eftablifhed in thefe walls 

To carry liquor for the prifoners. 

But fuch a curfed, fpite-envenom'd toad ! 

HARDfBRAND. 

Out on't! thou'ft told a tale that wrings my 
heart 
Of royal line ; born to command, and dignified 
By fufferings and dangers paft, which makes 
The meanefl man ennobled : yet behold him ; 

( Pointing off the Jiage. ) 
How by the wall he fidelong ftraddles on 
With his bafe tankard ! — O, the fneaking varlet I 
It makes me weep to hear his piteous tale, 
Yet my blood boils to run and cudgel him. 
But let us on our way. 



KEEPER. 

You are a noble [hanger, as I guefs, 
And wifh to be conducted thro* the prifon. 
It is an ancient building of great ftrength, 
And many ftrangers vint it. 



( 



HARDIBRAND, 

It is indeed a place of ancient note. 
Have you at prefent many criminals 
Within thefe walls ? 

KEEPER. 

Our number is, thank God ! refpe&able. 
Though not what it has been in better day^ 



A TRAGEDY. 69 

HARDIBRAND. 

In better days ! — Well, do thou lead the way. 
(As they are about to go off the flage, they are 
flopped by a voice finging from one of the 
hlgheji windows,) 

SONG. 

Sweetly dawns the early day 9 
Rife, my love, and come away: 
Leave thy grim and grated tower, 
Bounding walls, and ftep-dame* s lower; 
'Don thy weeds and come with me, 
Light and happy are the free. 

No fair manfwn hails me lord, 
'Dainties f moke not on my board; 
Tet full carelefs by my fide, 
Shalt thou range the foreji wide; 
T ho* finer far the rich may be, 
Light and happy are t lie free. 

HARDIBRAND. 

Alas 3 poor foul ! I would that thou wert free ! 
What weary thrall is this that fings fo fweetly ? 

1 

KEEPER. 

A reftlefs^ daring outlaw ; 
A fellow who hath aw'd the country round, 
And levied contributions like a king, 

F3 



;o RAYNER: 

To feaft his jolly mates in wood and wild ; 

Yea, been the very arbiter of fortune, 

And as his freakifh humors bit, hath lifted 

At one broad fweep the churl's fav'd ftore to 

leave it 
In the poor lab'rer's cot, whofe hard-worn palm 
Had never chuck' d a ducat 'gainft its fellow. 

HARDIBRAND. 

'Tis a brave heart ! has he been long confined ? 
But lift ! he fings again, 

SONG. 

Light on the hanging bough we'll /wing. 
Or range the thicket cool, 
Or Jit upon the bank andjing, 
Or bathe us in the pool. 

HARDIBRAND. 

Poor pent up wretch ! thy foul roves far from 
home. 

SONG. 

Well, good-man time, or blunt or keen, 
Move theejlow or take thy leifure, 
Longeji day will bring its e'en. 
Weary lives but run a meafure, 

HARDIBRAND. 

'Tis even fo, brave heart, or blunt or keen, 
Thy meafure has its flint. 



ATRAGEDY. 7* 

Enter Be rtr am from one of the doors of the frifon. 
I think thou haft the air of an old foldier : 

(To Bertram as he is hurrying paji him* J 
Such, without greeting, never pafs me by. 
Ha, Bertram ! is it thee ? 

BERTRAM. 

What, mine old General ? 

HARDIBRAND. 

Yes, and mine old foldier. 
How doft thou, man ? how has it far'd with thee 
Since thou haft left the fervice ? 

BERTRAM. 

I thank your honour ; much as others find it f 
I have no caufe to grumble at my lot. 

HARDIBRAND. 

'Tis well, but what's the matter with thee now ? 
Thine eyes are red with weeping, and thy face 
Looks ruefully. 

BERTRAM. 

Pve been to vifit, here, a noble youth. 
Who is condemn'd to die. 

HARDIBRAND. 

A noble youth ! 

F 4 



7* RAYNER: 

BERTRAM. 

Yea, a foldier too. 

HARDIBRAND, 

A- foldier ! 

BERTRAM. 

Ay, your honour, and the Son 
Of a mod gallant foldier. 

HARDIBRAND. 

But he is innocent ? 

BERTRAM. 

He is condemn'd. 

HARDIBRAND. 

Shame on it ! were he twenty times condemn'd, 
He's innocent as are thefe filver'd locks. 

(Laying his hand vehemently on his head*) 
What is his name ? 

BERTRAM. 

Rayner. 

HARDIBRAND. 

Ha ! fon to my old comrade, Rayner ! 
Oui on the fools ! I would as foon believe 
That this right hand of mine had pilfer'd gold 



A TRAGEDY. ?j 

As Rayner's fon had done a deed of fhame. 
Come, lead me back with thee, for I muft fee him, 

BERTRAM. 

Heav'n blefs your honour ! O, if by your means 
He might have grace ! 

HARDIBRAND. 

Come, let us go to him. 

BERTRAM. 

Not now, an' pleafe you : he is now engaged 
With one moft dear to him. But an hour hence 
I will conduct you to his cell. 

HARDIBRAND. 

So be it. 
Mean time, flay thou with me, and tell me more 
Of this unhappy youth : I have a mind, 
With the good keeper's leave, to view the prifon, 

(Exeunt. 

Enter Mir a and Alice by oppofite fides ^ both muf- 
fled up in cloaks and their faces conceal' d. J 

mir a (flopping Alice). 
Nay, glide not paft me thus with muffled face : 
*Tis I, a vifitor to thefe grim walls, 
On the fame errand with thyfelf. How goes it 
With our enthralled colleague ? doth he promife 
Silence to keep in that which touches us 
Of this tranfaftion, for the which he's bound ? 



74 RAYNER: 

ALICE. 

He is but half perfuaded ; go thyfelf 
And ufe thy arts — hum, here's a ftranger near us. 
Enter a Man who gives^ a letter myjlerioufly to 
Mira, and upon her making a fign to him, re- 
tires to the bottom of the Jlage whiljl Jhe 
reads it. 
What read'ft thou there, I pray thee, that thy brows 
Knit thus ungracioufly at ev'ry line ? 

MIRA. 

Know'ft thou that I mud doff my filken robes, 
Defpoil my hair of its fair ornaments, 
And clothe me in a gown of palmer's grey, 
With clouted fhoon and pilgrim's ftaff in hand 
To bear me o'er rude glens and dreary waftes 
To {hare a ftony couch and empty board, 
All for the proving of my right true love 
For one in great diftrefs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 
So doth this letter modeflly requeft : 
I pray thee read it. 

alice (reading the letter J. 
cc A deadly wound rankles in my fide, and I 
have no fkilful hand to drefs it, and no kind friend 
to comfort me. I am laid upon the cold earth, and 
feel many wants I never knew before. If thou haft 
any love for me, and as thou haft often wifh'd to 
prove that love, come to me quickly : but conceal 
thyfelf in the coarfe weeds of a Pilgrim ; my life is 
a forfeit to the law if anv one fhould difcover where 



A TRAGEDY. 75 

I am. A friend in difguife will give into thy hands 
this letter, and condud thee to thy miferable 
Zaterloo." {returning the letter.) And what fay'fl 
thou to this ? 

mira. 
I have in truth, upon my hands already 
Troubles enough ; this is, thou know'ft, no time 
To take upon me ruin'd men's diilrefles. 

ALICE. 

But 'tis thyfelf haft brought this ruin on him : 
'Twas thy extravagance. 

MIRA. 

Thou art a fool ! 
His life's a forfeit to the law : 'tis time, ' 
Good time, in faith ! I mould have done with him. 
Why doft thou bend thefe frowning looks on me ? 
How many in my place would for the recompence 
Betray him to the officers of juftice ? 
But, I, thou know'ft right well, deteft all bafenefe, 
Therefore I will not, 

ALICE. 

Hum, hufh ! thou fpeak'ft too loud : 
gome one approaches. 

Enter Countess Zaterloo. 

countess zaterloo (to Mira.) 
I pray you, Madam, pardon this intrufion ; 
Tracing your fteps, I have made bold to follow you. 



f6 R A Y N E R : 

I am the mother of an only fon, 

Who for thefe many days I have not feen : 

I know right well naught is conceal'd from you 

Of what concerns him ; let me know, I pray you, 

Where I may find my child. 

MIRA. 

Madam, you fpeak to one who in his fecrets 
Has fmall concern. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Nay, now, I pray you, do not keep it from me : 
I come not with a parent's ftern rebuke : 
Do tell me where he is, for love of grace : 
Or, if you will not, fay if he is fick, 
Or if he is diflrefs'd with any want. 
Do, for love's fake ! I have no child but him. 

MIR a ( giving her the letter J, 
There, Madam ; this is all I know of him. 
'Twas yonder ftranger gave it to my hand ; 

(Po'mting to the man.) 
We need not interrupt you with our prefence ; 
And fo good day. (Exeunt Mira and Alice.} 

countess zaterloo (after reading the letter). 
Alas, my fon ! and art thou low and wounded ? 
Stretch'd on the cold ground of thy hiding place 
In want and fear ? Oh art thou come to this ! 
Thou who didft fmile in thy fair op'ning mora, 
As cherubs fmile who point the way to heaven. 



A TRAGEDY. ?7 

And would'ft thou have a ftranger come to thee ? 

Alas ! alas ! where can thy aching head 

So foftly reft as on a parent's lap ? 

Yes, I will wrap me in the Pilgrim's weeds, 

Nor ftorm nor rugged wild fhall bar my way. 

And tho' declining years impair my ftrength, 

Thefe arms mail yet iupport thy feeble frame, 

When fairer friends defert thee. 

(To the Meflenger, beckoning him to come forward*} 

Good friend, this is no place to queftion thee ! 

Come with me to my home. 

(Exeunt. 



END OF THE THIRD ACT. 



R A Y N E R: 



ACT IV. 



The infide of the Prifon : Rayner and Elizabeth art 
difcovered fitting forrowfully by one another in ear* 
nefl difcourfe* 



RAYNER* 



Thou fayed well, my fweet Elizabeth ; 
In this I have againft thy love offended. 
But in the brightnefs of fair days, in all 
The carelefs gaiety of unruffled youth, 
Smiling like others of thy fex, I loved thee ; 
Nor knew that thou wert alfo form'd to flrive 
With the braced firmnefs of unyielding virtue 
In the dark florins of life — alike to flourifh 
In funfhine or in fhade. — Alas ! alas ! 
It was the thoughts of feeing thee — but ceafe ! 
The die is caft ; I'll fpeak of it no more : 
The gleam which fhews to me thy wond'rous 

excellence 
Glares alfo on the dark and lowering path 
That mud our way divide. 



ELIZABETH. 

O no ! as are our hearts, one is our way, 
And cannot be divided. Strong affection 
Contends with all things, and o'ercometh all things 
I will unto thee cling with ftrength fo terrible, 
That human hands the hold will ne'er unlock. 
6 



A TRAGEDY. 79 

RAYNER. 

Alas, my love ! thefe are thy words of woe, 
And have no meaning but to fpeak thy woe : 
Dark fate hangs o'er us, and we needs mud part. 
The flrong affe&ion that o'ercometh all things, 
Shall fight for us indeed, and fhall o'ercome: 
But in a better world the vantage lies 
Which it fhall gain for us ; here, from this earth 
We muft take different roads and climb to it, 
As in feme pitilefs florm two 'nighted travellers 
Lofe on a wild'ring heath their 'tangled way, 
And meet again. 

ELIZABETH. 

Ay, but thy way, thy way, my gentle Rayner — 
It is a terrible one. 

Oh flefh and blood fhrinks from the horrid pafs ! 
Death comes to thee, not as he vifiteth 
The fick man's bed, pillow'd with weeping friends : 
O no ! nor yet as on the battle's field 
He meets the blood- warm'd foldier in his mail, 
Greeting him proudly. — Thou mull bend thy neck, 
This neck round which mine arms now circled 

clofe 
Do feel the loving warmth of youthful life : 
Thou muft beneath the ILroke — O horrid ! horrid ! 

rayner (fupporting her from finking to the ground). 

My dear Elizabeth, my moft belov'd I 
Thou Wt affrighted with a horrid picture 

V 



8a RAYNERi 

By thine own fancy trac'd ; look not upon it i 

All is not dreadful in the actual proof 

Which on th* approach frowns darkly. Roufe thy 

fpirit ; 
And be not unto me at this dark pufh 
My heaviefl let ; thou who fhould'fl be my flay. 

(She groans heavily.) 
What means that heavy groan ? I'll fpeak its mean- 
ing, 
And fay, that thou to nature's weaknefs haft 
The tribute paid, and now wilt roufe thyfelf 
To meet with noble firmnefs what perforce 
Muft be \ and to a lorn and lucklefs man, 
Who holds in this wide world but thou alone, 
Prove a firm, gen'rous, and heart-buoyant mate, 
In the dark hour. Do I not fpeak it rightly ? 

ELIZABETH. 

Thou dofl, thou doff. ! if nature's weaknefs in me 
Would yield to the heart's will. 

(Falling on his ?ieck in a burji offorrow.) 

Enter Father Mardonio. 

MARDONIO. 

My children, ye have been in woeful conference 
Too long : chide not my zeal that hither brings me 
To break upon it. On you both be fhed 
HeavVs pitying mercy ! 

RAYNER. 

Amen, good Father ! thou doll call us children. 



A TRAGEDY. 8f 

With a moft piteous and kindly voice : 
Here is a daughter who in this bad world 
Will yet remain to want a father's care ; 
Thus let me form a tie which fhall be facred ; 

(Putting Elizabeth's hand into Mardonio's.) 
She has no parent. 

Enter Keeper of the Prifon. 
What brings thee here ? we would be left in 
peace. 

keeper (to Rayner). 
I am by a right noble ftranger urged, 
Who fays he has in many a rough compaign 
Serv'd with your valiant father in the wars, 
To let him have admittance to your prefence. 
Bertram condu&s him hither. 



RAYNER. 

Serv'd with mine honour'd father ! and thus cir- 
cumftanc'd, 
Now comes to fee his fon ! Well, be it fo : 
This is no time for pride to winch and rear, 
And turn its back upon the patt'ring hail, 
Bearing the thunder's fhock. Let it e'en be : 
Admit him inftantly. (Calling him back. J 

Nay, ere thou goeft, 

What is he call'd ? 

KEEPER. 

The Gen'ral Hardibrand. 
G 



83 R A Y N E R : 



RAYNER. 

An honourM name. (Exit Keeper. 

Retire, my love : (to Elizabeth.) 
I cannot bear to have thy woes expofed 
Before a ftranger's gaze. 

(She retires with Mardonio to an obfcure pari 
of the Prifon at the bottom of the Stage.) 

Enter Hardibrand and Bertram. 

hardibrand (to Bertram : flopping Jhort as he 
enters, and gazing upon Rayner, who is turned 
away from them and looking after Elizabeth. 
It is the fon of Rayner : in his form 
And face, tho' thus half turn'd from us, I fee 
His father. Still a foldier and a gentleman 
In ev'ry plight he feem'd. A clown or child 
Had fworn him fuch clad in a woollen rug. 

(Advancing to Rayner.) 
Young foldier, I did know your gallant father ; 
Regard me not as an intruding ftranger. 

RAYNER. 

I thank you, courteous fir : in other days 
Such greeting to my heart had been moft welcome. 
A gallant father and condemned fon 
May in the letter'd regifters of kindred 
Alliance have ; but in the mind's pure record, 
They no relation -bear : let your brave friend 
Still be to you as one who had no fon. 

6 



A TRAGEDY. S3 

HARDIBRAND. 

No, boy ; that fentiment befpeaks thy blood. 
Heed not thofe fetter'd hands : look in my face, 
Look in my face with the full confidence 
Of a brave man ; for fuch I'll fwear thou art. 
Think'ft thou that 1 am come to vifit thee 
In whining pity as a guilty man ? 
No, by the rood ! if I had thought thee fuch, 
Being the fon of him whofe form thou wear'fl, 
I mould have curs'd thee. Thou by mis'ry prefs'd, 
Haft ftrongly tempted been, I know thy ftory : 
Bertram has told it me : and fpite of courts, 
And black-rob'd judges, laws, and learn' d decifions, 
I do believe it as I do my creed. 
Shame on them ! is all favour and refpecT: 

For brave and noble blood forgotten quite ? 

1 

RAYNER. 

Ah, do not fear ! they will remember that, 
And nail fome fable trappings to my coffin. 

HARDIBRAND. 

I would that to their grave and pompous chairs 
Their affes' ears were naiPd ! Think they that men, 
Brave men, for thou thyfelf — What corps I pray 

thee 
Didft thou belong to in thy Prince's fervice ? 

RAYNER. 

The firft divifion of his fourth brigade 
Was that in which I ferv'd. 
G 3 



84 RAYNER 



HARDIBRAND. 

Thou hafl companion been to no mean men. 
Thofe fix brave officers of that divifion, 
Upon the fam'd redoubt, in his lad fiege, 
Who did in front o* th' en'my's fiercer!: fire 
Their daring lodgement make, mult needs of courfe 
Be known to thee. 

RAYNER. 

I knew them well ; five of them were my friends* 

HARDIBRAND. 

And not the fixth ? 

RAYNER. 

He was, alas ! my greateft enemy ; 
To him I owe thefe bonds. 

HARDIBRAND. 

A curfe light on his head, brave tho* he be I 

RAYNER. 

O curfe him not, for woes enough already 
Reft on his wretched head, 

(Bowing low and putting bis hand on bis bead. J 

HARDIBRAND. 

Ha ! thou thyfelf, — thou wert thyfelf the fixth ! 
Thank heav'n fomthis ! Then let them \i they will 
"Upon a thoufand fcaffolds take thy life* 



A TRAGEDY. 85 

And fpike thy head a thoufand feet aloft ; 
Still will I fay thy father had a fon. 

(RuJJ)ing into his arms.) 
Come to my foldier's heart, thou noble bird 
Of a brave neft ! — Mud thou indeed be pluck' d 
And caft to kites ? By heav'n thou malt not die ! 
Shall fuch a man as thou art from his pod 
Be fham'd and punVd for one rafh defp'rate a& ? 
It fhall not be, my child ! it fhall not be ! 

rayner (fmiling). 
In faith, good Gen'ral, could your zeal prevent it, 
I am not yet fo tir'd of this bad world, 
But 1 could well fubmit me to the change. 

HARDIBRAND. 

I'll with all fpeed unto the Governor, 
Nor be difcourag'd, tho' he loudly prate 
That grace and pardon will but leave at liberty 
The perpetrators of fuch lawlefs deeds 
To do the like again, with fuch poor cant. 

(Elizabeth, who has been behind bach , lijlening 

eagerly to their converfation, and Jiealing 

nearer to them by degrees in her eagernefs to 

hear it, now rujhes forward^ and throws her-r 

f elf at Hardibrand\r jfo/.^ 

ELIZABETH. 

We afk not liberty ; we aik but life. 
O grant us this, and keep us where they will, 
Or as they will. We fhall do no difquiet. 
O let them grant us life, and we will blefs them ! 

G 3 



36 RAYNER: 

RAYNER. 

And would' ft thou have me live, Elizabeth, 
Forlorn and fad, in lothly dungeon pent, 
Kept from the very ufe of mine own limbs, 
A poor, loft, caged thing ? 

ELIZABETH. 

Would not I live with thee ? would not I cheer 

thee? 
Would'ft thou be lonely then ? would'ft thou be 

fad? 
I'd clear away the dark unwholefome air, 
And make a little parlour of thy cell* 
With cheerful labour eke our little means, 
And go abroad at times to fetch thee in 
The news and paffing ftories of the day. 
I'd read thee books : I'd fit and fing to thee : 
And every thing would to our willing minds 
Some obfervation bring to cheer our hours. 
Yea, ev'n the varied voices of the wind 
O' winter nights would be a play^ to us. 
Nay, turn not from me thus, my gentle Rayner! 
How many fufFer the extremes of pain, 
Ay, lop their limbs away, in loweft plight 
Few years to fpend upon a weary couch 
With fcarce a friend their ikkly draughts tq 

mingle ! 
And doft thou grudge to fpend thy life with me ? 

RAYNER. 

I could live with thee in a pitchy mine ; 




ATRAGEDY. 87 

In the cleft crevice of a favage den, 
Where coils the fnake, and bats and owlets rooft, 
And cheerful light of day no entrance finds. 
But would'ft thou have me live degraded alfo ; 
Humbled and low ? No, liberty or nought 
Muft be our boon. 

HARDIBRAND. 

And thou fhalt have it too, my noble youth : 
Thou haft upon thy fide a better advocate 
Than thefe grey hairs of mine. (To Elizabeth.) 
Blefs that fair face ! it was not made for nothing. 
We'll have our boon ; fuch as befits us too. 
No, hang them if we ftoop to halving it ! 

(Taking her eagerly by the hand.) 
Come with me quickly ; let us lofe no time : 
Angel from heaven thou art, and with heav'ns 

power 
Thou'lt plead and wilt prevail. 

RAYNER. 

In truth thou wilt expofe thyfelf, my love, 
And draw fome new misfortune on thy head. 
(Endeavouring to draw her away from Hardibrand.) 

Elizabeth (to Hardibrand). 
What new misfortune ? can they kill thee twice ? 
We're tardy : O move quickly ! lofe no time. 

HARDIBRAND. 

Yes, come, and Bertram here will guide our way: 
His heart is in the caufe. 

G 4 






88 RAYNER: 

BERTRAM. 

Yes heart and foul, my Gen'ral. Would my 

zeal 
Could now make fome amends for what thofe 

hands 
Againft him have unwittingly committed. 
O that the felleft pains had fhrunk their nerves 
Ere I had feiz'd upon him ! 

RAYNER. 

Ceafe, good Bertram! 
Ceafe to upbraid thyfelf. Thou didft thy duty 
Like a brave man, and thou art in my mind 
Not he who feiz'd, but he whofe gen'rous pity 
Did, in my fallen flate, firft mew me kindnefs. 

(Bertram kijfes bis hand. J 
Go go ! they wait for thee. 

BERTRAM. 

They fhali not wait. Would that we were 
return'd, 
Bearing good tidings ! 

HARDIBRAND. 

O fear it not, my heart fays that we (hall. 

(Exeunt Elizabeth, Hardibrand and Bertram. 
Manent Rayner and Mardonio.) 

MARDONIO. 

Hope oft, my fon, unbraces the girt mind, 



A TRAGEDY. 89 

And to the conflict turns it loofely forth, 
Weak and divided. Pm difturb'd for thee* 

RAYNER. 

I thank thee, Father, but the crime of blood 
Your governor hath ne'er yet pardon'd ; therefore 
Be not difturb'd for me ; my hopes are fmall. 

MARDONIO. 

So much the better. Now to pious thoughts 
We will direct— Who comes to interrupt us ? 

Enter the Turnkey, 

RAYNER. 

It is the turnkey ; a poor man who, tho' 
His fiate in life favours not the kind growth 
Of foft affections, has fhewn kindnefs to me. 
He wears upon his face the aukwardnefs 
And hefitating look of one who comes 
To afk fome favour; fend him not away. 
(To Turnkey) What doft thou want, good friend ? 

out with it, man ! 
We are not very ftern. 

TURNKEY. 

Pleafe you, it has to me long been a priv'lege 
To {hew the curious peafantry and boors, 
Whp from the country flock o' holy days, 
Thro' his ftrait prifpn bars, the famous robber, 
That over-head is cell'd ; and now a company 
Waits here without to fee him, but he's fullen, 
And will not fhew himfelf. If it might pleafe you 



90 RAYNER: 

But for a moment oppofite your grate 

To {land, without great wrong to any one, 

You might pafs for him, and do me great kindnefs. 

Or the, good Father there, if he be willing 

To doff his cowl and turn him to the light, 

He hath a good thick beard, and a ftern eye, 

That would be better ftill. 

rayner (laughing J. 
Ha ! ha ! ha ! what fay ye to it, Father ? 

(Laughing again more violently than at firft.) 

mardonio (turning out the Turnkey in a pajfion, 
and returning fternly to RaynerJ. 
What means this wild and mod: unnatural mirth? 
This lightnefs of the foul, flrange and unfuited 
To thy unhappy ftate ? it mocks me much. 
Approaching death brings naught to fcare the good, 
Yet has it wherewithal to awe the boldeft : 
And there are feafons when the lightefl foul 
Is call'd on to look inward on itfelf 
In awful ferioufnefs. 

RAYNER. 

Thou dofl me wrong; indeed thou dofl me 
wrong. 
I laugh'd, but, faith ! I am not light of foul : 
And he who moft misfortune's fcourge hath felt 
Will tell thee laughter is the child of mis'ry. 
Ere fin brought wretchednefs into the world, 
The fobernefs of undiflurbed blifs 



A TRAGEDY. 91 

Held even empire o'er the minds of men, 

Like fteady funfhine of a cloudlefs fky. 

But when fhe came, then came the roaring ftorm, 

Lowering and dark ; wild, changeful, and perturb'd; 

Whilfl thro* the rent clouds oft times fhot the 

gleam 
More bright and powerful for the gloom around it. 
E'en midft the favage ftrife of warring paflions, 
Diftorted and fantaftic, laughter came, 
Hafty and keen, like wild-fire in the night ; 
And wretches learnt to catch the fitful thought 
That fwells with antic and uneafy mirth 
The hollow care-lined cheek. I pray thee pardon ! 
I am not light of foul. 

Death is to me an awful thing ; nay, Father, 
1 fear to die. And were it in my power, 
By fuffering of the keenefl racking pains, 
To keep upon me ftill thefe weeds of nature, 
I could fuch things endure, that thou would'ft 

marvel, 
And crofs thyfelf to fee fuch coward-bravery. 
For oh ! it goes againfi: the mind of man 
To be turn'd out from its warm wonted home, 
Ere yet one rent admits the winter's chill. 



MARDONIO. 

Come to my bread, my fon ! thou haft fubdued 
me. (Embracing him.) 

And now we will lift up our thoughts to him 
Who hath in mercy faved thy hands from blood. 



9 2 R A Y N E R: 

RAYNER. 

Yes, in great mercy, for the which Pd bow 
In truer thankfulnefs, my good Mardonio, 
Ev'n with thefe fears of nature on my mind, 
Than for the blefiing of my fpared life, 
Were it now proffer' d me. 

(They retire into the obfcurity of the dungeon, at 
the bottom of the Jlage, and the Scene clofes 
on them*) 

SCENE II. A f mall apartment in a folitary cottage 
in the country: Enter Count Zaterloo, fupported 
by an attendant and followed by the Countefs in the 
difguife of a Pilgrim ; both of them wearing mafks. 
She places a pillow for his head on a couch orfick 
chair ; and he is placed upon it, apparently with 
fain, 

countess zaterloo (to Attendant). 
There, fet him gently down ; this will fupport 
him, 
(To Count Zaterloo.) How art thou now ? I fear 

thou'rt very faint 
After fo long a journey. 
(To Attendant.) We have no farther need of thine 

affiftance : 
Thou wilt retire, but be upon the watch. 

( Exit Attendant, 

count zaterloo (unmajking). 
Now, charming Mira, lay difguife afide ; 



ATRAGEDY. 93 

Speak thine own natural voice, and be thyfelf : 
There is no eye to look upon us now ; 
No more excufe for this myfterioufnefs. 
Let me now look upon thy face and blefs it ! 
Thou haft done well by me : thcu'rt wond'rous 

gentle. 
I knew thee fair and charming, but I knew not 
Thou wert of fuch a foft and kindly nature. 
(The Countefs unmajks and looks at him forrowfully. ) 
Ha, mother ! is it you ? 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Who mould it be ? where fhould'fi thou look for 
kindnefs ? 
When we are fick where can we turn for fuccour ; 
When we are wretched where can we complain ; 
And when the world looks cold and furly on us, 
Where can we go to meet a warmer eye 
With fuch fure confidence as to a mother ? 
The world may fcowl, acquaintance may forfake, 
Friends may negle£t, and lovers know a change, 
But when a mother doth forfake her child, 
Men lift their hands and cry, " a prodigy ? 9 

count zaterloo (taking hold of both her hands 
and kijfmg them), 

O mother ! I have been a thanklefs child ! 
I've given thee hoary hairs before thy time \ 
And added weight to thy declining years, 
Who fhould have been their (lay. 



94 RAVNER: 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Be calm, my fon, for I do not upbraid thee. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Wretch that I am ! I was an only fon, 
And therefore bound by no divided tie 
To be to thee thy hold and thy fupport. 
I was a widow's fon, and therefore bound 
By every generous and manly tie 
To be in filial duty mofl devoted. 
O I have vilely done ! I feel it now ; 
But if I live to be a man again, 
I'll prove a better fon to thee, dear mother. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

I know thou wilt, my deareft Zaterloo ; 
And do not thus upbraid thyfelf too fharply ; 
Fve been a foolifh mother to thy youth, 
But thou wilt pardon me. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Of this no more — How came you by my letter ? 
If you did intercept it on its way, 
Mira is faithful ftill. 



COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

It was from Mira's hand that I received it. 
She tofs'd it at me with a jeering fmile 
When I with anxious tears inquired for thee. 



A TRAGEDY, 95 

count zaterloo (rifing half from his feat in 
great pajfion.) 

O faithlefs, faithlefs woman ! fhe it was, 
Who made of me the curfed thing I am ! 
I've been a fool indeed and well requited. 

Bafe, avaricious and ungrateful oh ! 

(Putting his hand on his fide as if feized with 
fudden pain.) 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Such agitation fuits not with thy ftate : 
What ails thee now ? 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

The pain, the pain ! it has return'd again 
With encreafed violence. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

God fend thee eafe ! why do ft thou look fo 
wildly, 
And grafp my hand fo hard ? What is't difturbs 

thee? 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

My time on earth is fhort. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Nay, fay not fo : thou may 'ft recover frill. 
O why this feeming agony of mind ? 
'Tis not the pain that racks thee. 



9 6 RAYNER: 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

There's blood upon my head : I am accurfed. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Good heaven forfend! thou wand'reft in thy 
fpeech. 
Thy life I know is forfeit to the law 
By fome unlawful aft, but oh no blood I 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

O for a fhort refpite ! but 'twill not be : 
I feel my time is near. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Thou wand'reft much : there's fomething on thy 
mind, 
Dark'ning thy fancy. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

'Twas I that did it — I that murder'd him : 
He who mud fuffer for it did it not. 

/ COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

What words are thefe ? my blood runs cold to 
hear them. 

count zaterloo (alarm d.) 
Be (till, be dill ! there's fome one at the door : 
All round me is expofed and infecure. 



A TRAGEDY. 97 

(Countefs Zaterloo goes to the door and receives 
fomething from a Servant, Jhutting the door 
immediately.) 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

It is a fervant come to fetch me fomething, 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Has he not heard it ? he has heard it all ! 

(In violent alarm and agitation*) 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Be ftill, be flill ! it is impoflible. 
Thou'ft wak'd the pain again ; I fee thee tremble, 

count zaterloo (zvrithing as if 'in great pain). 

Ay, this will matter me : 'twill have me now : 
What can be done ? O for a fliort reprieve ! 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Alas, my child ! what would' It thou have me do? 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

I would have time turn'd backward in his courfe ? 
And what is pad ne'er to have been : myfelf 
A thing that no exiflence ever had. 
Canfl thou do this for me ? 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Alas ! I cannot. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Then curfed be thy early mother's cares! 

H 



9$ RAYNER: 

Would thou had'ft lifted up my infant form 
And dafh'd it on the flones ! I had not liv'd — 
1 had not lived to curfe thee for thy pains. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

And dofl thou curfe me then ? 

count zaterloo {foften'dj. 
O no ! I do not ! 
I did not curfe thee, mother : was it fo ? 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

No, no, thou didft not : yet I have deferv'd — 
I was a mother felfifh in my fondnefs ; 
And with indulgence, fenfelefs and extreme, 
Blafted the goodly promife of thy youth. 

count zaterloo (rifing half up alarm* d from 

his couch J, 

Hark ! there's a noife again ! haft thou more 
fervants 
Coming with errands to thee ? — We're difcover'd ! 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Be not fo foon alarm'd : it is impoffible. 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Is there an inner chamber ? lead me there ; 

(Pointing to a door. J 

I cannot reft in this. (Stopping Jhort eagerly as Jhe 

is leading him out with great difficulty.) 

. Thine abfence haply 

From thine own houfe, fufpicion may create : 



A TRAGEDY. 99 

Return to it again, and thro' the day 
Live there as thou art wont ; by fall of eve 
Thou'lt come to me again.— I'm very weak ; 
I mud lean hard upon thee. 

(Exit, looking fufpicioujly behind him as if he 
heard a noife, and fupported with great diffi- 
culty by his mother,) 

SCENE III. The Countefs Zaterloo's houfe: enter 
Countess and a Female Attendant. 

ATTENDANT. 

Ah ! wherefore, madam, are you thus difturb'd 
Pacing from room to room with refllefs change, 
And turning ftill a keen and anxious ear 
To every noife ? What can I do for you ? 

COUNTESS ZATERJLOO. 

Ceafe, ceafe! thou canft do nothing, my good girl: 
I have a caufe, but do not feek to know it. 

Enter a Servant. 

SERVANT. 

There is a ftranger . 

countess zaterloo (Jlarting with alarm).. 

Ha ! what doft thou fay ? 
A ftranger ! what appearance does he wear ? 
Is there but one ? Looks he fufpicioufly ? 

SERVANT. 

Be not alarmed, madam ; 'tis a woman. 
H2 



ioo RAYNER; 

countess zaterloo (feigning compoj ure J* 
Thou art a fool to think I am alarm' d : 
Or man or woman, whofoe'er it be, 
I am unwell, and mud not be diflurb'd. 

SERVANT. 

It is a lady of diftinguiuVd mein, 
Tho' much in grief, and (lie fo earneftly 
Pleads for admittance that I am compell'd-— 
Pardon me, madam ; but to look upon her 
Would move your heart to pity. 

COUNTESS ZATERLO0. 

Let her enter. ( Exit Servant.) 

Who may this be ? why do I tremble thus ? 
In grief! — the wretched furely will not come 
In guileful feeming to betray the wretched. 
(To Attendant.) Know 'ft thou who this may be ? 

ATTENDANT. 

Indeed I do not. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Retire then to a diftance : here fhe comes : 
But do not leave the chamber. 

(Attendant retires to the bottom of the ft age ^ and 
enter Elizabeth with her hair and drefs dif- 
crdered, like one dijiraclcd with grief J 

ELIZABETH. 

Madam, I come a flranger to your prefence, 



A TRAGEDY. 101 

By mlfery embolden'd, and urg'd on 
By defperation. In your pity only 
Lives all the hope of my moft wretched ftate : 
O kill it not ! pufh me not to the brink 
Of mifery fo deep and terrible ! 
Have pity ! O have pity on my woe ! 
Thou art a woman, and a woman's heart 
Will not be fhut againft a wretched woman. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

What would'ft thou afk? thou doft with too 
much grief 
Conceal the point and object of thy fuit. 

ELIZABETH. 

There is in prifon bound, condemn'd to die, 
And for a crime by others hands committed, 
A noble youth, and my betrothed love : 
Your fon — O (brink not back, nor look fo flernly ! 
Your fon, as fecret rumour hath inform' d me, 
Mortally wounded and with little hope 
Of life, can ample teftimony give, 
Being himfelf of thofe who did the deed, 
That Rayner did it not : — O let him then, 
In whate'er fecret place he lies conceal'd, 
In pity let him true confeffion make ; 
And we will blefs him — Heav'n will pardon him ! 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Defpair hath made thee mad ! art thou aware 
What thou doft afk of me ? Go to our governors ; 
H 3 



102 R A Y N E R : 

They may have pity on thee ; but from me 
It were an acl againft the fenfe of nature. 



ELIZABETH. 

Nay, fay not fo ! I have for mercy fued 
At the proud feet of power, and been rejected : 
What injury can reach a dying man ? 
Can his few hours of breathing poife the fcales 
'Gainft the whole term of a man's reckon'd life 
In youth's beft ftrength ? 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Go, thou haft been deceiv'd with a falfe tale : 
And, were it true, hope ends not but with life ; 
Heaven only knows who is a dying man. 

ELIZABETH. 

For blefled charity clofe not your pity 
Againft all other feelings but your own ! 
(Clafping the Countefs' knees andkijjing her hand*) 
Sweet lady ! gentle lady ! deareft lady ! 
O be not ruthlefs to a foul bow'd down 
In extreme wretchednefs ! 



COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Ceafe, ceafe ! unlock thy hold : embrace me 
not! 
Has he for whom thou plead'ft from out o' thyfelf 
Receiv'd his being ? prefs'd with infant lips 
Thy yearning bofom ? fmiled upon thy knees, 






A TRAGEDY. 105 

And blefs'd thine ear with his flrft voice of words ? 
Away, away ! defpair has made thee mad, 
That thus thou hang'fl upon me. 

ELIZABETH. 

O he for whom I plead is to my foul 
Its foul : is to my fancy its bound world, 
In which it lives and moves ; all elfe beyond 
Darknefs, annihilation. O have pity ! 
For well thou fay'ft, defpair has made me mad. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Let go, let go ! thou with a tigrefs ftriv'ftj, 
Defending her bay'd whelp : I have no pity. 
Ileav'n will have pity on thee ! let me go ; 
Unlock thy defp'rate hold. 

( 'Breaks from her and rum out, and Elizabeth, 
quite over come, finks upon the ground, the At- 
tendant ruflnng forward from the bottom of 
the ft age to fupport her.) 

Enter father mardonio. 

mardonio (ra'iftng her). 
My daughter, heav'n will fend in its good time 
The aid that is appointed for thy ftate. 
Contend no more, but to its righteous will 
Submit thyfelf. Let me conduct thee hence. 
(Exeunt Mardonio and Attendant fupport ing her. 
Re-enter the Countefs, looking fearfully round 
her as jhe enters.) 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

She is gone now : thank God that fhe is gone ! 
H 4 



104 RAYNER: 

There is a horrid conflict in my mind. 
What fhall I do ? I ftrongly am befet. 
I will go quickly to fome holy man, 
And ghoftly counfel afk. 

(Exit) cr offing theflage with a quick irrefolute 
flep, fometimes flopping to confider, and then 
hurrying on again*) 



END OF THE FOURTH ACT, 



A T RAGED Y. 105 

ACT V. 

A fpacious outer Room in the Prifon. 
Enter an Under- Jailor and a Clown. 

CLOWN. 

1 pray thee now, my good friend, here is a piece 
of money for thee — very good money too ; thou 
may'fl look o' both fides of it an* thou wilt : it 
has been wrapped up in the foot of my old holiday 
{lockings fmce lad Michaelmas twelvemonth, and 
neither fun nor wind has blown upon it. Take it, 
man, thou art heartily welcome to it if thou canfl 
put me into a good place near the fcaffold ; or a 
place were I may fee him upon the fcaffold ; for 
I am five and thirty years old next Shrove-Tuefday 
when the time comes round, and I have never yet 
feen in all my born days fo much as a thief fet i' 
the flocks. 

JAILOR. 

Poor man ! thou haft lived in moll deplorable 
ignorance indeed. But fland afide a little, here is 
the famous executioner of Olmutz a-coming, who 
has been fent for exprefsly to do the job ; for our 
own is but a titulary hangman \ he has all the ho- 
nours of the office, but little experience in the 
duties of it. 



io6 RAYNER: 

CLOWN. 

O dickens, I'll creep into a corner then, and 
have a good look of him. A man that has cut;off 
men's heads, fave us all ! he muft have a ftrange 
bloody look about him for certain. 

Enter two Executioners, /peaking as they enter. 

FIRST EXECUTIONER. 

"What ! no execution in this town for thefe ten 
years paft ? Lord pity you all for a fet of poor devils 
indeed ! Why I have known a fmailer town than 
this keep ye up a firft executioner for the capital 
bufmefs, with a fecond man under him for your 
petty cart-tail and pillory work ; ay, and keep 
them handfomely employed too. No execution in 
fuch a town as this for thefe ten years paft ! one 
might as well live amongft the favages. 

SECOND EXECUTIONER. 

It is a pitiful thing to be fure, but don't defpife 
us altogether, Mr. Mafler : we fhali improve by 
and by, pleafe God ; and here is a fair beginning 
for it too, if the Lord profper us. 

FIRST EXECUTIONER. 

Ay, thou wilt, perhaps, have the honour of 
hanging a thief or two before thou art the age of 
Methufelah ; but I warrant ye, the beheading of 
this young nobleman here by the famous execu- 
tioner of Olmutz will be remembered amongft you 



A T R A G E D Y. 107 

for generations to come. It will be the grand date 
from which every thing will be reckoned ; ay, your 
very grand children will boaft that their fathers 
were prefent at the fight. 

SECOND EXECUTIONER. 

I make no doubt on't, my matter, but you are 
a very capital man in your way : Lord forbid that 
I mould envy the greatnefs of any one ; but I 
would have you to know that there have been others 
in the world as good as yourfelf ere now : my own 
father cut off Baron Koflam's head upon this very 
feaflbld that we now hear them hammering at. 

EIRST EXECUTIONER. 

Some wandering hocus-pocus Baron, I fuppofe, 
that fold noftrums for the tooth-ach. I always put 
fuch fellows into the hands of my underling to ope- 
rate upon ; I never count the dealing with them as 
your prime work, tho* for certain we mutt call it 
your head-work ; ha ! ha ! ha ! (holding out his axe 
in a vain-glorious manner. J Seefl thou this axe of 
mine ? The beft blood of the country has been upon 
its edge : to have had one's father or brother under 
its ftroke, let me tell thee, is equal to a patent of 
nobility. 

SECOND EXECUTIONER. 

Well, be it fo : 1 envy no man, God be praifed ! 
tho' thou art fet over my head upon this occafion. 
I have whipp'd, branded, and pilloried in great 



xoS 11 A Y N E R; 

meeknefs and humility for thefe feven years pad ; 
but the humble mail be exalted at laft, and I mall 
have better work to do, by and by, God willing. 
Let us have no more contention about it. — Who's 
there ? (obfer-ving Jailor and Clown.) Ay, Jailor, 
do thou go and kick up the black prince, he is 
fnoring in fome corner near us, and fend him for 
ibme brandy. 

(Jailor coming forward? with the Clown creeping 
after him? half afraid,) 

JAILOR. 

The black prince is no where to be found \ he 
has not been feen fince the cells were locked. 



SECOND EXECUTIONER. 

Go fetch us fome liquor thyfelf then. 

FIRST EXECUTIONER. 

But who is this fneaking behind thee, and afraid 
to (how his face ? 

JAILOR. 

Only a poor countryman, a friend of mine, who 
wanted to look at you as you paft. 

EIRST EXECUTIONER. 

Yes, yes, every body has a curiofity to look at 
extraordinary perfons. (to Clown.) Come forward 
man, and don't be afraid. Did'ft thou ever be- 



A TRAGEDY. 109 

fore fee any thing better than a poor parifh pried, 
or a fcrubby lord of the village ? didft thou, eh ? 

clown (abqfljcd). 
I don't know, pleafe you : my brother did once 
itand within a team's length of the Prince of 
Carara, when he pafTed through our village on his 
way to Franconia. 

FIRST EXECUTIONER. 

So then thou art not the firfl of thy family that 
has feen a great man. But don't be afraid, my 
good fellow, I a'nt proud nor haughty as many of 
them be : thou (halt even make hands with me an' 
thou wilt. (Holding out his hand to Clown, who 
Jhrinks from him, and puts his hands behind 
his back.) 

CLOWN. 

No, I thank you ; I ben't much of a hand- 
maker : I have got a little fore on my thumb, may 
it pleafe you : I thank you all the fame as tfeo' I 
did. 

FIRST EXECUTIONER. 

Ay, thou art too mannerly to call it the thing 
that we wot of. Well, thou art a good fort of 
fellow ; don't be abafh'd : thou fee' ft I am very 
condefcending to thee. Come, then, thou malt 
drink a cup of liquor with me. Follow us into 
the next ward, my good friend. 



ira RAYNER: 

clown (Jhrinking from him again), 
O na, lave your prefence ! I'll go with the jailor 
here. 

first executioner (to Second Executioner). 
Ay, he is but a poor bafhful clown, and don't 
know how to behave himfelf in good company. 

(Exeunt Executioners. 

CLOWN. 

Shake hands with him, Mary preferve us ! it fets 
the very ends of my ringers a dingling. Drink out 
cf the fame mug with him too ! (/puttering with 
his lips J poh ! poh ! poh ! the tafte of raw heads 
and carrion is on my lips at the thoughts of it. 
(To Jailor.) Come let us go out of this place ; I be 
long enough here, (flapping fliort as he goes off.) 
What noife and hammering is this we hear ? 

jailor. 
It is the workmen putting up the fcaffold. 

clown (Jiarting). 
What, are we fo near to it ? mercy on us I let 
me get out of this place, for it puts me into a ter- 
rible quandary. 

JAILOR. 

If this be the mettle thou art made of, thou had'fl 
better take thy money again, and I'll give thy place 



A TRAGEDY. in 

for the fight to fomebody that has got a ftouter 
heart than thou haft- 

CLOWN. 

Na, na, I won't do that neither ; I have a huge 
defire to fee how a man looks when he is going to 
have his head cut off, and I'll (lay for the fight 
tho' I mould fwoon for it. Poor man ! poor man ! 
what frightful things there be in this world when 
one's mind fets a thinking upon it ! — Is he a tall 
man now, (to Jailor) or a fhort man? a pale- 
faced man, or ay, pale enough, I warrant. 

Mercy on us ! I mail think of him many a night 
after this before I go to fleep. Poor man ! poor 
man !. what terrible things there be in this world 
if a body does but think of them. 

(Exeunt Clown and Jailor. 

SCENE II. A dungeon; Rayner dif covered fitting 
at a table by the tight of a lamp, with a book in hit 
hand) the clock from a neighbouring Jleeple Jlr ikes 
three, and he, rot fed with the found, lays down the 

book, 

RAYNER. 

This bell fpeaks with a deep and fullen voice : 
The time comes on apace with filent fpeed. 
Is it indeed fo late ? (Looking at his watch. J 

It is even fo. 
(Pauftng, and looking fill at the watch.) 
How foon time flies away ! yer, as I watch it, 
2 



ii2 RAYNE fcr 

Methinks, by the flow progrefs of this hand, 
I fhould have liv'd an age fince yefterday, 
And have an age to live. Still on it creeps, 
Each little moment at another's heels , 
Till hours, days, years, and ages are made up 
Of fuch fmall parts as thefe, and men look back, 
Worn and bewilder'd, wond'ring how it is. 
Thou traveled like a {hip in the wide ocean, 
"Which hath no bounding more to mark its progrefs, 

Time I ere long I fhall have done with thee. 
When next thou leadefl on thy nightly (hades, 
Tho' many a weary heart thy fteps may count, 
Thy midnight 'larum fhall not waken me. 
Then mall I be a thing, at thought of which 
The roufed foul fwells boundlefs and fublime, 
Or wheels in wildnefs of unfathom'd fears ; 

A thought ; a confcioiffnefs ; unbodied fpirit. 
Who but would fhrink from this ? It goes hard 

with thee, 
Social connected man ; it goes hard w r ith thee 
To be turned out into a flate unknown, 
From all thy kind, an individual being. 
But wherefore fhrink ? came we not thus to earth ? 
And he who fent, prepar'd reception for us. 
Ay, glorious are the things that are prepar'd, 
As we believe I — yet, heaven pardon me ! 

1 fain would fculk beneath my wonted cov'ring, 
Mean as it is. 

Ah, Time ! when next thou fill'ft thy nightly term 3 
Where fhall I be ? Fye ! fye upon thee fiill ! 
Ev'n where weak infancy, and tim'roufc age, 



A T RAGED Y. 113 

And maiden fearfulnefs have gone before thee ; 
And where, as well as him of firmed foul, 
The meanly-minded and the coward are. 
Then truft thy nature, at th' approaching pufh, 
The mind doth fhape itfelf to its own wants, 
And can bear all things. ( Rlfing from his feat, and 
walking fever al times backward and forward. J 
I know not how it is, I'm wond'rous heavy ; 
Fain would I reft a while. This weary frame 
Has but a little more to do for me, 
And yet it afks for reft. I'll lay me down : 
It may be poflible that I mail ileep, 
After thefe weary rollings of the mind ; 
I feel as tho* I mould. (Goes tofleep, covering him- 

f elf with a cloak.) 
Enter Ohio, creeping out from a hiding-place at the 
bottom of theftage, and going foftly up to Rayner, 
looks forfome time upon him with a malicious grin* 

OHIO. 

Thou haft lov'd negroes' blood, I warrant thee. 
Doft fleep ? ay, they will waken thee ere long, 
And cut thy kead off. They'll put thee to reft ; 
They'll clofe thine eyes for thee without thy leave \ 
They'll bloat thy white fkin for thee, lily-face. 
Come, lefs harm wilt I do thee than thy fellows : 
My fides are cold : a dead man needs no cloak. 

( 'Beginning gently to pull off Rayner's cloak, who 
ft arts from his Jleep 9 and looks at him in 
amazement.) 

I 



ii4 R.A YNER: 

RAYNER. 

Ha ! what hole of the earth hath cafl thee up ? 
What thing art thou? and what would'fl thou 
with me ? 

OHIO. 

My fides are cold ; a dead man needs no cloak. 

RAYNER. 

'Tis true indeed, but do not flrip the living. 
Where doft thou run to now ? where wert thou hid ? 

ohio (after running to his hiding-place , and fetching 
out ajlick, which he prefents to Rayner). 
Beat me thyfelf, but do not tell of me. 

RAYNER. 

I would not harm thee for a greater fault. 
I'm forry thou art cold ; here is my cloak : 
Thou haft faid well ; a dead man needs it not. 
I know thee now ; thou art the wretched negro 
Who ferves the prifoners ; 1 have obferv'd thee : 
I'm forry for thee ; thou art bare enough, 
And winter is at hand. 

OHIO. 

Ha ! art thou forry that the negro's cold ? 
Where wert thou born who art fo pitiful ? 
I will not take thy cloak, but I will love thee. 
They {hall not cut thy head off. 

RAYNER. 

Go thy ways ; 
Go fculk within thy hiding place again, 
And, when the cell is open'd, fave thyfelf. 



A TRAGEDY. tt$ 

OHIO. 

They (han't cut off thy head. 

RAYNER. 

Now, pray thee go. 

OHIO. 

Til kifs thy feet ; I'll fpend my blood for thee. 

RAYNER, 

I do befeech thee go ! there's fome one coming : 
I hear them at the door. (Pufhes him hqftily off.) 

Enter Hardibrand, advancing Jlowly to Rayner, 
his eyes cafi upon the ground. 

RAYNER. 

Good morrow, general : where's thy friendly 
hand ? 
Why doft thou turn thine eyes afide, and fear 
To look me in the face ? Is there upon it 
Aught that betrays the workings of the mind 
Too flrongly mark'd ? I will confefs to thee 
I've ftruggl'd hard, I've felt the fears of nature ; 
But yet I have the fpirit of a man 
That will uphold me : therefore, my brave friend, 
Do me the grace to look upon me boldly ; 
I'll not difgrace thee. 

HARDIBRAND. 

No, my valiant boy ! 
I know thou'lt not difgrace me, nor will I 

12 



n6 RAYNER: 

Put fname on thee by wearing on this morn 
A weeping face : I will be valiant too. 
We will not, Rayner, tho' thou'rt thus — Oh ! oh [ 

(Bur/ling into tears.) 

RAYNER. 

My gen'rous friend, my fecond father, why 
Wilt thou opprefs me thus ? 

HARDIBRAND. 

Bear with me, bear with me ; I meant to brave it, 
And I will brave it. But to thee, my fon, 
In thy diftrefs, encompafs'd as thou art, 
My heart fo ftrongly has enlink'd itfelf, 

That to part from thee, boy, is 

(Falling on his neck, and burfting again into tears.) 

Enter Mardonio. 

mardonio (after looking at them for fame time, and 
in afolemn impofing tone of voice). 
The ftrength of man finks in the hour of trial ; 
But there doth live a pow'r that to the battle 
Girdeth the weak : Heaven's vivifying grace, 
And ftrength, and holy confidence be thine, 
Who art in mercy ftricken ! (Holding up his right 
hand to heaven, whilft Raynen, approaching 
with reverence, bows himfelf beneath it very 
low.) 

RAYNER. 

Thanks to thee, father ! thefe are words of power. 
And I do feel their ftrength. Beneath that hand 
8 



A T R A GED Y. xi? 

Which hath in mercy ftricken me, I bow ; 

Yea bow, the nobler and the bolder grown 

For fach humility. — (Familiarly J How goes the 

time ? 
Does day begin to dawn ? 

v MARDONIO. 

Grey light peeps faintly o'er the eaftern towers, 

RAYNER. 

The time is then advanc'd ; we'll hufband it. 
Come clofe to me, my friends. (Taking Hardibrand 

and Mardonio each by the hand, and pr effing 

them clofe to his breafl.) 
Of worldly cares, upon my mind there refts 
But only thofe which I have mention'd to you. 
Yet, in this folemn hour, let me remind you : — 
My poor Elizabeth — 

hardibrand (eagerly J. 
Thou'fl faid enough : 
She is my child and heirefs of my lands 
To the laft rood. — Ah ! what avails it now ! 

RAYNER. 

How fhall a dying man find thanks for this, 
Whofe day is clofed ? I will attempt no thanks. 
The other wifh that clofely preffes on me : — 
Mardonio, upon thee mud hang this boon : — 
That miferable man of whom I've told you ; 
Now living in the hell of his remorfe, 
Cut off from human intercourfe j whofe viiion 

.13 



n8 RAYNER: 

Of midnight horrors fav'd this hand from blood : 
I fain 

hardibrand (again eagerly interrupting him). 
Fear not ! fear not ! he mall be fav'd ; 
And fhall with human beings yet confort 
In blefled charity, if ghoftly care 
From holieft men procur'd, or ofFrings made 
To ev'ry facred fhrine on chriftian ground 
Can give him peace. 

rayner (fmiling and prejfing Hardibrand to his 
bofom). 

With all the prompt and gen'rous profufion 

Of eager youth do ft thou, mine aged friend, 

Take every thing upon thee. Be it fo. 

And good Mardonio with his fober counfel 

Will aid thy bounty. Here I join your hands : 

My worldly cares are clos'd. 

Enter Elizabeth, followed by Richard and Ber- 
tram, who remain on the back ground whil/l Jhe 
comes Jlowly forward; Rayner turning round on 
hearing them enter. 

Ah ! who is this ? 

Alas ! alas ! it is Elizabeth. 

(Holding out his hand to her.) 

Advance, my love ; thou'rt ever welcome here. 

How does it fare with thee ? 

ELIZABETH. 

It is all mift and darknefs with me now ; 
I know not how it fares with me. 



A TRAGEDY. 119 

RAYNER. 

Alas! 
Thou gentle foul ! a dark cloud o'er thee hangs, 
But thro' the gloom the fun again will break, 
And, in the fobernefs of calm remembrance, 
Thou wilt look back upon misfortunes pad 
Like tempefts that are laid. Thou dofl not heed me : 
Thou dofl not fpeak to me. Alas ! Alas ! 
What fhall I fay to thee ? 
I've lov'd thee well, and would have lov'd thee 

long, 
Had it fo been — But thou fhalt be belov'd ! 
Heaven will take charge of thee when I'm at reft : 
The kindly and the good fhall be thy kindred, 

(Putting her hand in Hardibrand'j.) 
And ev'ry forrowful and gentle heart 
Shall knit itfelf to thee, and call thee fitter. 

(Elizabeth makes a motion with her hand as if 
Jhe would /peaky and he paufes, but Jhe is 
filenuj 
What meant, my love, that motion of thy hand ? 

MARDONIO. 

She fain would fpeak to thee, but has no voice. 

RAYNER. 

I know it well, Elizabeth ; no voice 
JSTeed'ft thou to tell me how thou'ft dearly lov'd 

me, 
And dearly do I prize it ; 'tis my pride j 

14 



no RAYNU: 

E'en humbl'd as I am, it is my pride. 
Heaven's deareft bleffings reft upon thy head !— p 
And now, fince we mult part, do in thy love, 
Do for me this laft grace ; bid me farewel, 
And let my earthly forrows now be clos*d. 
Heaven's blefling reft upon thee ! 

(He kijfes her, andjhe turns to go away, Rayner 
looking after her as Jhe goes, but prefently re* 
turns again,} 

RAYNER, 

Thou art return'd, my foul, what would'ft thou 
have ? 

Elizabeth fin a broken voice), 
A thought — a wifh did prefs upon my heart, 
$ut it is gone. 

RAYNER. 

I thank thee for thy wifh ; 
It is a good one, tho' thou canft not fpeak it, 
And it will do me good. But leave me ! leave me ! 
Thou wilt unfit me for a talk of ftrength. 

(Elizabeth again attempts to go away, but JIM 
returns.) 
Ah, wherefore frill ! wilt thou be cruel to me ? 

ELIZABETH. 

O, no ! O, no ! I know not what I do : 
It is all mid and darknefs with me now : 
I look upon thee, but 1 fee thee not. 



A TRAGEDY. 121 

Let me once more but feel thy hand in mine 
And fend me where ye will : my being then 
Is at an end. (They embrace again , and foe flill 

continues to hang upon him,) 

rayner (to Bertram and Richard). 
O, lead her hence, and have fome mercy on me! 
My father died i' the field a valiant death, 
And mail his fon upon the fcaffold die 
O'ercome and weak, reft of that decent firmnefs 
Which ev'n the bafe and vulgar there aflume ? 

lead her hence ! in mercy lead her hence ! 

(Bertram and Richard tear her from him, and 
lead her away, whilji he turns his back, and 
hides his face with his hands. J 

Elizabeth (flopping Jhort, and tojjing up her arms 

diflracledly as they are leading her out J. 

Reprieve ! reprieve ! I hear a voice i' the air ! 

1 hear it yet again ! 

rayner (uncovering his face, and looking about 
eagerly, whilft Hardibrand rujhes forward impe- 
Tuoufly from the bottom of the flage, where he has 
been pacing backward and forward with hafly 
Jtrides). 
Is't any thing ? 

mardonio. 
Alas no ! all is fiknt : 'tis the fancy 
Of fond diftra&ion lift'ning to itfelf. 



122 RAYNER 



HARDIBRAND. 

Nay, ft was fomething : Bertram, thou did'ft 
hear it ? 

BERTRAM. 

No, I heard nothing. 

HARDIBRAND. 

What, nor thou, good Richard ? 

RICHARD. 

No, nothing. 

Elizabeth (holding up her arm difiracledly as 
Richard and Bertram lead her off). 
And is it nothing ! no redemption near ! 

(Exeunt Elizabeth, Richard, and Bertram, 
whilfi Rayner, uttering a deep groan, hides 
his face, and Hardibrand returns with hafiy 
fir ides to the bottom ofthefiage. 

rayner (uncovering his face J. 
Is fhe gone now ? 

MARDONIO. 

She is. 

RAYNER. 

Thank God for it ! Now to our talk : 

( Stepping forward with affumedjirmnefs.) 
What of it now remains we mall o'er-mafter. 
Pray thee how goes the time ? But pardon me ! 
I have too oft enquir'd how goes the time : 
It is my weaknefs. 



A TRAGEDY. 123 



MARDONI0. 

The morning now advances. 

RAYNER. 

So I reckon'd. 
We too fhall put ourfelves in forwardnefs : 
And fo, good father, to your ghoftly guidance 
I do commend myfelf. 

Enter Jailor. 

JAILOR. 

The officers of juftice are arrived, 
And wait the prefence of the prifoner. 

RAYNER. 

They come upon us fooner than we wife ; 
But 'tis fo much the better. 

(To Mardonio afide.) 
Shall we have time allow'd us for retirement, 
Before they lead me forth ? 

MARDONIO, 

'Tis ever fo allow'd, 

RAYNER. 

Come then, I feel me flronger than I was : 
'Twill foon be paft ; the work goes on apace. 

(Taking hold of Hardibrand and Mardonio as 
he goes out. J 
Your arm, I pray : — I know not how it is 5 
6 



i2 4 RAYNER: 

My head feels dizzy, but my limbs are firm. 
Good Hardibrand, think'ft thou I (hail difgrace 
thee ? 



HARDIBRAND. 

No, by the mafs ! I'll give them this old carcafe 
To hack for crow's meat if thou fhrink'lt one hair's 

breadth 
From the comportment of a gallant foldier, 
And of a brave man's fon. 

rayner (fmiling with a gratified look.) 
I thank thee. 
Methinks I tread now, as I onward move, 
With more elaflic and dilating ftep, 
As if a fpirit of pride within me flirr'd, 
Buoying me up on the fwoln billows ridge. 

(Exeunt. 

SCENE III. An outer garden-room or portico in the 
houfie where Zaterloo is concealed; enter Countefs 
and a Confeflbr, with two Attendants bearing Za- 
terloo on a f mall couch, which they fit down on the 
middle of the fi age; the Attendants retire. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

The air revives him : look, I pray thee, father, 
How the frefh air revives him : fay not then 
All hope is banifh'd quite. — Thou fhak'ft thy head : 
But whilft I fee upon his moving breafl 
One heave of breath, betok'ning life within, 






A TRAGEDY. 125 

I'll grafp at hope, and will not let it go. 

(Bending over the couch. J 
My fon ! my fon 1 hear'ft thou my voice, my ion ? 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Yes, mother : I have had a fearful druggie. 
*Tis a ftrong enemy that grapples with me, 
And 1 muft yield to him. — O pious father ! 
Pray thou for mercy on me. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Yes, my fon, 
This holy man fhall pray for thee ; the fhrines 
Of holiefl faints be gifted for thee ; maffes 
And facred hymns be chanted for thy peace : — 
And thou thyfelf, even 'midft thine agony, 
Haft fpoken precious words of heav'nly grace ; 
Therefore be comforted. 

count zaterloo (fnaking his head J. 
There is no comfort here : dark, veil'd, and 
terrible, 
That which abides me ; and how fhort a fpace 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

O thou may'ft yet recover ! 

confessor. 
Lady, forbear ! this is no time to foothe 
With flatt'ring hopes : his term is near its clofe ; 
Therefore, I do again entreat it of you, 
Send off the menenger with his confeflion, 



126 • RAYNER: 

Left it fhould be too late to fave the innocent, 
And he be fent unto his long account 
With a mod heavy charge upon his head. 

COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Thou mak'ft me tremble. — Ho! There, you 
without ! 
Send here the meffenger. (Calling offthejlage.) 

His fteed is ready : 

He (hall forthwith depart. 

Enter Messenger. 

confessor (to MefFenger). 
Take thou this packet, and with full-bent fpeed 
Go to the city to the governor, 
And fee that into his own hand thou give it, 
With charges that he read it inftantly. 
It is of precious moment to his life 
Who on the fcaffold fhould this morning fuffer. 
Quick mount thy horfe : few minutes goaded fpeed 
Will take thee to the gates. 

MESSENGER. 

Few minutes goaded fpeed, five leagues to mafter! 

CONFESSOR. 

Five leagues ! thou'rt mad. 

MESSENGER. 

No, marry ! know ye not 
The flooded river hath laft night broke down 
The nearer bridge ? 



A TRAGEDY. 127 

CONFESSOR. 

What, art thou fure of this ? 

MESSENGER. 

I am now come from gazing on the fight. 
From bank to bank the red fwoln river roars *, 
And on the deep and flowly-rolling mafs 
Of its ftrong centre-tide, grumly and dark, 
The wrecks of cottages, whole ricks of grain, 
Trunks of huge trees torn by the roots, — ay, fave 

us! 
And floating carcafes of perifh'd things, 
Bloated and black, are borne along ; whilft currents 
Crofs-fet and furious, meeting adverfe dreams 
On rude uneven furface, far beyond 
The water's natural bed, do loudly war 
And terrible conteft hold ; and fwoltring eddies 
With dizzy whirling fury, tofs aloft 
Their furgy waves i' the air, and fcatter round 
Their ceafelefs bick'ring gleams of jagged foam, 
All fiercely whit'ning in the morning light. 
Crowds now are {landing upon either more 
In awful filence *, not a found is heard 
But the flood's awful voice, and from the city 
A difmal bell heard thro' the air by ftarts, 
Already tolling for the execution. 

CONFESSOR. 

What's to be done ? fate feems to war againft us. 
No, no ! we'll not defpair ! Mount thy fleet horfe, 



128 RAYNER: 

Life and death's in thy fpeed :— 

Let naught one moment flop thee on thy way : 

All things are poffible to vig'rous zeal : 

Life and death's in thy fpeed : depart ! depart ! 

And heaven be th thine efforts. 

(Exit Meiienger, after receiving the packet.) 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

Is he gone ? is it done ? 

CONFESSOR. 

Yes he is gone : God grant he be in time, 
For unto human reck'ning 'tis impoflible ! 

(To Countefs with an upbraiding look.) 
Half an hour fooner 



COUNTESS ZATERLOO. 

Oh, torment me not ! 
Who could forefee this hindrance ? — O, good fa- 
ther i 
Look to thy penitent. Upon his count'nance 
There's fomething new and terrible. Speak to him : 
Go clofe to him, good father. — O my fon ! 

COUNT ZATERLOO. 

I feel within me now — this is the feeling : 
I am upon the brink, the dreadful brink : 
It is a fearful gulf I have to moot. 

yet fupport me ! in this racking pain 

1 (till may hold a fpace the grafp of life, 



A T RAG ED Y. 129 

And keep back from the dark and horrid — Oh ! 

(uttering a deep groan) It is upon me ! 

(Struggles and expires with a faint groan. 
Countefs, wringing her hands in agony of 
grief is hurried off thejiage by the Confeflbr 
and Attendants , who rufh in and take hold of 
her.) 

SCENE IV. An openfquare before the great gate 
of the prifon : a Crowd offpeclators, with guards, 
&c. are dif covered, waiting for the coming forth of 
Rayner to his execution, and afolemn bell is heard 
at intervals. The gate opens, and enter Rayner 
walking between Mardonio and Hardibrand, and 
followed by Richard and Bertram, preceded and 
followed by guards, officers, hfc. The proceffion 
moves Jlowly over the flage, and exeunt, followed 
by the greater part of the Crowd, though a good 
many of them ftill remain upon the flage. Then 
re-enter Hardibrand and Richard, followed by one 
or two of the Crowd: Hardibrand walking up a?id 
down in a perturbed manner, and Richard leaning 
his back againjl the fidefcene, where he continues 
motionlefs with his eyes fixed on the ground. The 
murmur of the multitude is heard for fome time 
without, and then ceafes, followed by a deadfilencc, 

FIRST CROWD. 

The found of the multitude is dill now. 

second crowd (looking out.) 
I fancy, by the crowd who ftand all gather'd 



do RAYNER: 

round yonder in dead filence, he is now preparing 
for the block. 



THIRD CROWD. 

It mud be fo : mercy on us, what a mantle of 
human faces there be fpread round on every fide, 
and not one found of voice amongft them all ! 

(A longpaufe.) 

HARDIBRAND (Jiarting and flopping fuddenly, fo 
Firft Crowd). 
Didft thou hear aught ? • 

FIRST crowd. 
No, they are ftill filent. v 

i 

HARDIBRAND. 

Look out, I pray thee, and tell me what thou 
fee'ft. 

(Firft Crowd looks out. J 
What dofl thou gaze at with fo broad an eye ? 

FIRST CROWD. 

The executioner is now mounted upon the plat. 

form, and the prifoner O ! I cannot look any 

more ! (A loud confufed noife is heard without. J 

HARDIBRAND. 

What's that ? 



A TRAGEDY. 131 

SECOND CROWD.' 

It is like the cry of a great multitude when they 
look upon fomething that is terrible. 

FIRST CROWD. 

Then the ftroke is given, and it is all over now. 
(Hardibrand turns hajlily away, and rujhes to 
the other end of the Ji age, whiljl Richard 
gives a. heavy groan, andfiill remains motion* 
left. A Jhout is heard without. J 
hardibrand (returning furioufly fr 'om the bottom of 
theftage). 
More of that horrible din ! — 
May they bring down the welkin on their heads 1 

second crowd (to Firft Crowd). 
What art thou looking at now ? 

FIRST CROWD. 

Nay, there is nothing to look at now : the plat- 
form is down, and the crowd is returning home 
again. 

Enter Ohio, running acrofs thejlage. 

OHIO. 

I've done it ! I've done it ! I've done it ! (Exit. 

Enter a Messenger in great hafie, followed by a 
Civil Officer. 

FIRST CROWD. 

Where are you running to fo faft I 
K2 



i$z R A Y N E R 



MESSENGER. 

Is the execution over ? 

FIRST CROWD. 

Yes, it is over. 

MESSENGER. 

Ah ! then I am too late. 

FIRST CROWD. 

What mean ye by that ? 

MESSENGER. 

I brought a pardon for him. 

hardibrand (ruflting upon the meffcnger and col- 
laring him). 
A pardon ! O confound your tardy fpeed ! 
Had you upon fome paltry wager ftrove, 
You had run fafter. — O, thou curfed fool ! 

had'ft thou fped, I'd made a rich man of thee ! 

messenger difent angling himfelf). 
My fleed and I acrofs the high-fwoln flood, 
Thofe on the fhore fhrieking to fee our boldnefs, 
Have fearlefs fwam fome miles fhort of the pafs 
Which we mud elfe have gain'd, or, by my faith, 

1 had been later. 



A T R A G E D Y. 133 

HARDIBRAND. 

Thou Heft, thou curfed fool ! thou fhould'ft have 
fped 
Swift as a bullet from the cannon's mouth. 

(Collaring him again*) 

Enter Rayner, Mardonio, Bertram, and 

Crowd, 
mardonio (to Hardibrand, pulling him back from 
the MelTenger). 
Hold, general ! what hath the poor man done ? 

HARDIBRAND. 

What has he clone ! he's brought a pardon, fiend ! 
(The Crowd give a great fly out crying out " par- 
don, pardon" and Hardibrand, turning round 
at the noife % and feeing Ray ner, fprings for- 
ward, and catches him in his arms. J 

God blefs us all, and let us keep our wits ! 

Is this true feeing that my eyes are blell with ? 

O welcome, welcome i this is wonderiul ! 

My boy ! my noble boy ! my gallant boy ! 

Thou art a man again, and I — I'm mad : 

My head wheels round, but 'tis a bleifed madnefs. 

What fay'ft thou ? art thou filent ? 

Hall no voice ? 

RAYNER. 

To be upon the verge of death is awful ; 
And awful from that verge to be recall'd. 
God blefs ye ! O God blefs ye ! I am ipent ; 
But let me draw my breath a little while, 

K3 



134 R A Y N E R: 

And I will thank you — I will — Bear with me : 
I cannot fpeak. (Recovering himfelf and feeing the 

Crowd gather round him with joyful andfym- 

pathizing looks. J 
Surely 'tis a kind world I have return'd to ; 
There's fympathy and love in ev'ry heart. 

mardonio (to Meflenger). 
Where is the pardon ? let me have it friend, 
That I may read it. (Meflenger gives him a paper, 

which he reads.) 
We charge thee upon our authority to fet the 

(Reading the reft low to himfelf) 
What ! call ye this a pardon which acquits 
The prifoner as guiltlefs of the crime ? 
May God be praifed ! how has all this been ? 

MESSENGER. 

Count Zaterloo, who on his death-bed lies, 
In deep remorfe, a paper of confefiion, 
Attefted by a prieft and his own mother, 
Caus'd to be drawn, which to the governor 
I've brought, I wot, as quickly as I might, 
Tho' (pointing to Hardibrand)this good gentleman — 

hardibrand (embracing the Meflenger). 
O no ! O no ! thou'rt a brave fellow now. 
And as I've faid I'll make a rich man of thee. 
But I'm bewilder'd ftill : how hath it been 
That he is fav'd, feeing no pardon reach'd him ? 



A TRAGEDY. 133 

MARD0NI0. 

Yes, thou may'ft wonder! for fome unknown 
friend 
Had fawn acrofs the main prop of the fcaffold, 
So that the headfman mounting firft, the platform 
Fell with a crafti ; and he, all maim'd and bruis'd, 
Unfit to do his office, was perforce ■■ < ■ 

HARDIBRAND. 

Ay, ay, 'tis plain, thou need'ft not tell me more. — 
But he the unknown friend ■ ■ ■ 

Enter Ohio, running exultingly. 

OHIO. 

'Twas I that did*it ! 
Beat me and fcourge me as ye lift : I did it ! 
He offer'd me his cloak : he pitied me ; 
And I have paid him back. 

HARDIBRAND. 

Ha! well done and well faid, my brave black 
thing ! 
Art thou a prince ? in faith I think thou art. 
I'll take thee home, and make a man of thee. 
No, no ! (pointing to Rayner) here is my fon, my 

heir, my child : 
All that I have is his ; he will reward thee. 
Thou haft a gen'rous mind, altho' debas'd 
With vile oppreffion and unmanly fcorn. 

K 4 



itf RAYNE R, 

rayner (taking Ohio #«</ Hardibrand both By the 
hand J. 
What mall I fay to you ? my heart would fpeak 
What my voice cannot. O ! and here comes one 
Who mocks all power of words. 

(Enter Elizabeth running, andrufhes into Ray- 
ner'j arms; the Crowd then eagerly gathers 
round them, and clofes upon them, J 

mardonio (Jiepping out from the crowd, and looking 
upon them, J 
Yes, gather round him, kindly fouls tho* rude, 
In the true artlefs fympathy of nature ; 
For he is one o'er whom the florin has rolPd 
In awful power, but fpar'd the thunderbolt. — 
When urg'd by flrong temptation to the brink 
Of guilt and ruin, Hands the virtuous mind 
With fcarce a fteep between ; all pitying heaven, 
Severe in mercy, chaft'ning in its love, 
Oftimes, in dark and awful vifitation, 
Doth interpofe, and leads the wand'rer back 
To the ftraight path, to be forever after 
A firm, undaunted, onward bearing traveller, 
Strong in humility, who fwerves no more. 

(Exeunt 



THE COUNTRY INN: 



A COMEDY. 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 

MEN: 

Sir John Hazelwood. 
Worshipton, nephew to Sir John. 
Amaryllis, a poet. 
David, fervant, &c. of the inn. 
Will, pojiboy of the inn. 
Jenkins, fervant to Worfhipton. 
Piper, Fidler, &c. 



WOMEN: 
Lady Goodbody. 

Miss Martin, ^ 1 nieces to Lady Good- 

Miss Hannah Clodpate, j body. 
Dolly, maid of the inn. 
Landlady. 

Hopkins, Lady Goodbody's maid. 
Sallv. 

Scene, — A Country Inn, on o?ie of the crofs-roads 
leading from the North of England to London. 



THE COUNTRY INN 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. The kitchen of a Country Inn: David 
and Jenkins difcovered fitting by the fire fide. 

DAVID. 

John Thomson, fays I, why do you put yourfelf 
into a paflion ? an angry man, fays I, John, may be 
compared to three things. 

JENKINS. 

Yaw ! yaw ! (yawning very wide) how thick that 
fnow falls ! (looking to the window.) 

DAVID. * 

Well, well ! let it fall as thick as it pleafes ! — To 
three things, John. In the firft place, in refpecl 
that he is very hot and very reftlefs and all that, he 
may be compared to the boiling of a po t no, 
no i that was the third thing. 

JENKINS. 

Never mind, man, put it firfl this time for a 
variety. 



i 4 o THE COUNTRY INN; 



DAVID. 

No, no ! let us have every thing as it mould be. 
In the firft place then, fays I, in refpect that he is fo 
fharp, and fo fufify, and fo bouncing, he may be 
compared to your poor bottled fmall-beer : and in 
the fecond place, in refpect that he is fo loud and 
violent, and fo hafty, he may be compared 

JENKINS. 

Yaw ! yaw ! yaw ! (yawning again very loud. J 

david (very impatiently). 
Tut, man ! can't you keep thofe jaws of yours to- 
gether, and hear what a body fays ? 

N JENKINS. 

Yaw, yaw ! Don't think becaufe I yawn, David, 
that I don't hear what you fay. — But go on with 
your ilory : in the fecond place — i — 

DAVID. 

.In the fecond place, fays I, in refpect that he is 
fo violent and fo loud, and fo hafty, he may be com* 
pared to the letting off of a 

JENKINS. 

Of a train of gun-powder. 

DAVID. 

No, fir ; it was not to that. fir. 



A C O M E D Y. 141 



JENKINS. 

To the letting off of what, then ? 

DAVID. 

No matter what : I had a companion of my own, 
but I'll keep it to myfelf. 

JENKINS. 

Very well, David ; jufl as you pleafe ; for I can 
fee how what an angry man is like, withc-ut your 
giving yourfelf any further trouble. 

DAVID. 

Ay, ay ! jeer away fir ! you are juft like your 
poor filly affected mafter up flairs, who fimpers 
whenever I open my mouth to fpeak, as if nobody 
had any fenfe but himfelf. 

JENKINS. 

I don't think that my mafter fets up for a wife 
man neither, mailer David ; but he's young and 
well made, and 

DAVID. 

He well made, hang him ! his uncle is a better 
made man by half. — -Ay, there is a gentleman for- 
ye 1 a reafonable, fenfible, mannerly gentleman ! he 
don't break in upon one with his fneers and his jeers 
when a body is talking foberly and fenfibly. 



*4* 



THE COUNTRY INN; 



JENKINS, 

To be fure he has rather more manners about him 
than we can pretend to. 

DAVID. 

By my faith he has ! and more fenfe too. What 
do you think he faid to me the other day ? David, 
fays he, you only want a great wig upon your head 
and a gown upon your moulders, to make as good 
a* profer as many that we liften to in the pulpit or 
the bench, Now, wan't it very condescending in 
him to call fuch a poor unlearned man as me a 
profer, along with fuch great folks as thefe ? Not 
that I regarded fo much the compliment to myfelf, 
for God knows, it becometh not a mortal man to be 
proud, but I love to hear people fpeak rationally 
and civilly* 

JENKINS. 

Yes, there is nothing like it to be fure : but my 
young mafter is a very good mafter to me, and he 
fpends his money like a gentleman. 

DAVID. 

I don't care a rum how he fpends his money : 
they feem to be the greateft gentlemen now-a-days, 
who have lead money to fpend. But if you had fal- 
len fick on the road, like that poor old devil in the 
rofe chamber, would your mafter have flopped fo 
long at a poor Country Inn, to attend you himfelf 



A COMEDY. i 43 

like a fick nurfe ? I trow not ! he would have 
fcamper'd off, and left you to follow when you 
could, or to die, if you had a mind to it. 

JENKINS. 

If I were old and fickly, indeed, I had as lief have 
Sir John for my matter. 

DAVID. 

I believe fo : he is a better man than that fkip- 
jack nephew of his, twenty times over, and a better 
looking man too. 1 wonder much how he has come 
to this time o' th' day (for he mutt be near forty I 
guefs) without taking a wife. 

JENKINS. 

He thinks himfelf happier, I fuppofe, without 
one. And I am fure no lady of any fpirit or fafhion 
would think herfelf happy with him. 

DAVID. 

How fo ? what kind of man is he at home on his 
own eftate ? 

JENKINS. 

Why half ploughman ; for he often enough holds 
his own plough of a morning, and can caft ye up as 
ftraight a furrow as any clod-footed lout in the 
country ; half prieft, for he reads family prayers to 
his fervants every Sunday evening as devoutly as the 
vicar of the parifh ; half lawyer, for there is never 
a poor filly idiot that allows himfelf to be cheated 

5 



144 THE COUNTRY INN; 

ill the neighbourhood who does not run to him 
about it dire&ly, and he will brow-beat and out-wit 
half a dozen of attorneys to have the goofe righted 
again, if it were but of a crown's value. 

DAVID. 

Well, but there is nothing amifs in all this. 

JENKINS. 

Then his other odd ways. Dinner muft be upon 
the table every day at the very moment he has fixed, 
and he will not give ten minutes law to the firfl 
lord of the land, Devilifhly inconvenient that for 
young fellows like me and my matter. 

DAVID. 

So much the better ; I commend him for it. 

JENKINS. 

Then he pretends to be hofpitable, and entertains 
the firfl people of the country, and yet he is not 
afhamed to boaft that there has not been a drunk 
man in his houfe fince he was mafter of it. 



DAVID. 

Nay, odds life I that is being too particular, 
indeed. 

JENKINS. 

Ay, to be fure ; and yet he puts always fuch an 
eafy good humoured face upon it, that people will 



A COMEDY. 145 

not call him a hunks for all that. One half of it I'm 
fure would have made any other man pafs for a very 
curmudgeon. What has fuch a man to do with a 
wife,unlefs he could get fome fober young lady, edu- 
cated two hundred years ago, who has kept herfelf 
young and frefh ail the while in fome cave under 
ground along with the feven fleepers, to dart up to 
his hand and fay, " pray have me ?" — As for my 
matter, he would remain a bachelor if he could ; 
but -we young fellows who have only our perfons for 
our patrimony, mutt difpofe of them in their prime 
when they will fetch the higheft price. 

DAVID. 

To be fure, to be fure ! PrincefTes a' piece for you! 
young men, now a days, are mightily puffed up in 
their own conceits. They are colts without a bridle, 
but they bite upon the bit at latt. They are butter- 
flies in the fun, but a rainy day wafhes the colour off 
their wings. They fail down the ftream very brifkly, 
but it carries them over the ca-cartica— — -cataract 
(what ye call a water-fall ye know) at latt. 

JENKINS. 

Faith, David ! you firing up fo many what do ye 
call 'em fimilitudes in your difcourfe, there is no 
underttanding it: you are juft like that there poet 
in the green chamber, that writes upon the win- 
dows. 

DAVID. 

He, drivling fellow ! he has not fenfe enough to, 
L 



146 THE COUNTRY INN: 

make a fimilitude. If it were not for the words he 
contrives to make clink with one another at the end 
of every line, his verfes would be little better than 
what a body may call mere fluff. 

Enter Dolly. 

DOLLY. 

You'll never write fuch good ones tho', for all 
your great wifdom, Mr. David. 

DAVID. 

Ay, you're a good judge to be fure ! I'm fure you 
could not read them though they were printed in big 
letters before your nofe, huffy. You can tell us, I 
make no doubt of it, how his julep taftes, and how 
his breath fmells after the garlic peels that he takes 
to lay the cold wind in his ftomach, and how his 
ruffled night-cap becomes him too ; for you have 
been very ferviceable to him of late, and not very 
fparing of your vifits to his chamber of an evening; 
but as for his verfes, Mrs. Doll, you had better be 
quiet about them. 

DOLLY. 

I fay his verfes are as pretty verfes as any bodf 
would defire, and I don't care a rufh what you fay- 
about his night-cap or his garlic. 

DAVID. 

Lord, Lord ! to hear how women will talk about 
what they don't underfland 1 Let me fee now if you 



A COMEDY. 147 

know the meaning of the lines he has fcratch'd on 
the middle pane of the north window : 

" 'Twas not that orient blufh, that arm of fnow, 
" That eye's celeftial blue, which caus'd my woe, 
" 'Twas thy exalted mind, my peace which flole, 
" And all thy moving fympathy of foul." 
Now, can you underfland that, miftrefs madam ? 

DOLLY. 

I fay the verfes are very pretty verfes, and what 
does it fignify whether one underftands them or 
not? 

DAVID. 

And then upon the other pane clofe by it l 
" Give me the maid, whofe bofom high 
" Doth often heave the tender figh ; 
" Whofe eye, fufFus'd with tender care, 
" Doth often fhed the foft luxurious tear." 
(To Jenkins.) Now this is Doll herfelf he means in 
thefe verfes, for he came to this houfe the very day 
that the beggar-woman ftole her new flockings from 
the fide of the wafh-tub, and I'm fure fhe fhed as 
many tears about them as would have wafh'd them 
as white as a lily, tho' they were none of the clean- 
eft neither, it mull be confefs'd. — If I were to write 
poetry 

DOLLY. 

If you were to write poetry ! Don't you remem- 
ber when you made that bad metre for Gopdy 

L2 



148 THE COUNTY INN: 

Gibfon's grave-ftone, and all the parifli laugh'd at 
it? 

" All ye gentle Chriftians who pafs by, 
a Upon this dumb ftone cafl a pitying eye ; 
" I pray you for yourfelves, not me, bewail, 
" I on life's follies now have turned tail." 
And don't you remember when you went to church 
afterwards, how all the children of the village point- 
ed with their fingers, and turn'd round their behinds 
"to you as you pafs'd ? If you were to write poetry, 
forfooth ! 

DAVID. 

Devil take you, you filthy lying jade! it is well for 
you that I fcorn to be angry with the likes of you. 

dolly (laughing in his face J. 

6C I pray ye for yourfelves bewail, 

" For I on life have turned tail." 
(David takes up ajiool and runs after her to cajl it at 
her head,) O mercy ! my head, my head ! 

jenkins (preventing him.) 
Nay, David, I can't fee a lady ufed ill in my pre- 
fence. Confider, my good friend, a man in a paf- 
fion may be compared to three things. 

DAVID. 

Devil take your three things, and all the things 
that ever were in the world ! If I but once get hold 
of her* 



A COMEDY. H9 

Enter Landlady. 

LANDLADY. 

What's this noife for ?- are you all mad to make 
fuch a difturbance and gentle-folks in the houfe ? I 
proted, as I am a living woman, you make my houfe 
more liker a Bedlam than a fober Inn for gentle- 
folks to flop at. 

david (filll /baking his jijl at Dolly). 
If I could get hold of her, I would drefs her ! I 
would curry-comb her ! 

.LANDLADY. 

Won't you have done with it yet? curry-comb 
your horfes, and let my maid alone. They (land 
in the (table poor things in dirty litter up to their 
bellies, while you fit here prating, and preaching as 
tho' you were the vicar of the parifh. 

DAVID. 

Mud one be always attending upon a parcel of 
damn'd brutes, as tho' they were one's betters ? mud 
a body's arm never have a moment's reft ? 

LANDLADY. 

Let thy tongue reft a while, David : that is the 
member of thy body that haft mod reafon to be tired. 
And as for you, Doll, mind your own work, and 
other people will leave you alone. Have you 
pluck'd the crows for the pigeon-pye yet, and 

L 3 



rfr THE COUNTRY INN: 

fcraped the maggots from the Hale mutton ? well do 
I know there's ne'er a bit of all this done ; we mall 
be put to fuch a hurry fcurry to get the dinner 
drefs'd, that all the nice victuals will be fpoil'd (bell 
rings). O lud, lud ! how they do ring them bells ! 
Run and fee what's wanted, Dolly. (Exit Dolly.) 
This co'mes of making a noife, now ! (Exit Jenkins. 

DAVID. 

The greateft noife has been of your own making^ 
I'm fure. 

LANDLADY. 

dear me ! what will this houfe come to ! It will 
turn my poor head at laft. 

Re-enter Dolly in a great hurry. 

DOLLY. 

A coach, a coach ! a coach at the door, and fine 
ladies in it too as ever my eyes beheld. 

LANDLADY. 

A coach fay you ! that's fomething indeed. I 
wifh the (lairs had been fcower'd this morning. 
Run and light a fire in the blue chamber. 
(Exeunt Landlady and 'Dolly fever ally , in great hajte. 

DAVID. 

1 wonder what can bring thefe lady-folks out 
now in fuch cold weather as this. Have they never 
& fire at home to fit by, in a plague to them! 



A COMEDY. 151 

They'll bring as many vile fmoking beads with 

them, as will keep my poor arms 

(Exit grumbling' 

Re-enter Landlady, JJjewing in Lady Goodbody, 
Miss Martin, and Hannah, followed by a 
Maid carrying boxes, &c. 

LANDLADY. 

O la, ladies ! I am forry the fires an't lit : but I 
have juft ordered one to be lit in the blue chamber, 
and it will be ready immediately. I am fure your 
ladyfhips mufl be fo cold ; for it is to be fure the 
fevered weather I ever fee'd. 



LADY GOODBODY. 

We fhall warm ourfelves here in the meantime. 

MISS MARTIN. 

What place can be fo comfortable in a frofty 
morning as a ftool by the kitchen fire ? 

(Sits down on ajlool by the fire,) 

LANDLADY. 

O dear, ladies ! here are chairs. (Sets chairs for 

them,) 

LADY GOODBODY (tO Maid). 

Here is a feat for you too, Hopkins, fit down by 
the fire. 

L 4 



152 THE COUNTRY INN 



HOPKINS. 

T thank you, my lady, I rauft look after the things 
in the coach. (Sets down the box, &c. and exit. J 

lady goodbody (to Landlady). 
Have you many travellers, ma'am, in this road ? 

LANDLADY. 

O yesr, my lady, a pretty many. We had a little 
time a^o my Lady the Countefs of Poftaway, and a 
power of fine folks with her. It was a mighty cold 
day when me came, madam, and fhe was a mighty 
good humour'd lady to be fure : fhe fat by the fire 
here jult in that very corner as your ladyfhip does 
now. 

MISS MARTIN. 

It has been a highly-honour'd nook indeed. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Pray ma'am, what have you got in the houfe for 
dinner ? for it fnows fo fafl I think it will be impof- 
fible fdr us to get any further to day. 

LANDLADY. 

O la, to be fure ! I have got, my lady, a nice 
pigeon-pye for dinner, and fome very tender mutton. 
But do you know, my Lady Countefs would dine 
upon nothing but a good dim of fried eggs and 
bacon, tho' we had fome very nice things in the houfe 
I'll affure you. 1 don't fay, to be fure, that quality 



A C O M E D Y. 153 

are all fond of the fame kinds of victuals ; but 
fometimes it will fo happen that pigeons will not be 
equally plump and delicate as at other times, let us 
do what we will with them ; and the mutton being 
fed upon old grafs, my lady, will now and then be 
a little ftrong tafted or fo. — O dear me ! if it had 
not been all eaten up two days ago, I could have 
given you fuch a nice turkey ! it was to be fure as 
great a beauty as ever was put upon a fpit. How- 
fomever, you may perhaps after all, ladies, prefer 
the eggs and bacon. 

MISS MARTIN. 

Yes, my good ma'am ; the eggs and bacon that 
may be eaten to-day will anfwer our purpofe rather 
better than the turkey that was eaten yefterday. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Have you any company in the houfe ? 

LANDLADY. 

O yes, my lady, we have a good pleafant gentle- 
man, who has been here thefe three days, becaufe 
his fervant was taken ill upon the road, Sir John 
Hazel wood, and his nephew with him ; and we 
have a ftrange kind of a gentleman who has been 
here thefe three weeks, juft to be quiet, as he fays 
himfelf, and to ftudy the mufics, tho' I can't fay we 
ever hear him play upon any thing neither. How- 
fomever, he diverts himfelf all day long after his 



ij 4 THE COUNTRY INN: 

own fafhion, poor man, writing bits of metre upon 
the windows and fuch like, and does harm to no- 
body. 

hannah C after gazing for a long time at the things 
ranged over the chimney J. 
There is a pair of candlefticks the very fame with 
thofe we had in our bed-room at the laft inn : look 
if they an't, the very fellows to them coufm, all but 
the little bead round the fockets. (To Mifs M.) 

lady goodbody ( to Hannah). 
My good child, you are always obferving things 
that nobody elfe notices. (To Mifs M.) Sir John 
Hazelwood is an old acquaintance of mine ; I'll let 
him know that I am here prefently. 

Enter Dolly. 

dolly. 
The room is ready, ladies, and the fire very good. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

We fhall go to it then. Let me have a candle, 
pray ; I fhall have fome letters to feal by and by. 

DOLLY. 

Yes, ma'am ; and miftrefs got fome wax ones 
when the great lady was here, I'll bring you one of 
them. 



A COMEDY. 155 

LADY GOODBODY. 

No, no, child ! a tallow one will do well enough. 
(Exeunt Lady Goodbody, Mifs Martin, and 
Hannah, Landlady conducting them. 

Enter Will. 

will. 
Yes, Doll, give her a tallow candle, and a (link- 
ing one too. 

DOLLY. 

The lady feems a very good lady, Mr. Sauce-box ; 
and as to (linking candles I would have you to 
know we have no fuch things in the houfe. 

WILL. 

That is plaguy unlucky then, for this is the firft 
time imce I came to the houfe that you have been 
without them. — Confound the old dingy hypocrite! 
I wifli they fmelt like carrion for her fake. 

DOLLY. 

What makes you fo bitter againfl the poor lady? 
I'm fure fhe is as civil a fpoken lady as 

WILL. 

Yes, mighty civil, truly. I hate your fmooth- 
fpoken people : it is licking the butter off other 
people's bread that keeps their tongues fo well 
oiPd. I drove like the devil to get here before the 



ij6 THE COUNTRY INN: 

fnow came on ; I fpared neither myfelf nor my 
cattle to pleafe her, and what do you think I had 
for my pains ? 



DOLLY. 

I can't fay : it is a long ftage to be fure. 

WILL. 

Paltry half-a-crown, an' be hang'd to her ! 

DOLLY. 

But why did you take fo >much pains to pleafe 
her ? I never knew ycu do fo before, but when you 
were promifed a bribe for your trouble. 

WILL. 

Becaufe I tell you fhe's a hypocrite, and would 
deceive Old Nick, if he were not as cunning as her- 
felf. When we paffed thro' Middleton fhe bought 
as many coarfe (lockings as would have flecked a 
hofier's (hop ; and her maid told me they were all 
to be fent to her own eftate to be given to the poor 
cf the neighbourhood ; fo, thinks I to myfelf^ this 
mud be feme rich liberal lady that gives away money 
with both hands, I won't (land upon trifles with 
her, and off I fet like the deuce. But 'tis all a curled 
lie : fhe'll fell them again, I'll be bound for it, and 
make a groat of profit upon every pair. I'll be re- 
venged upon her ! Hark ye, Doll ; I'll give thee a 
new top-knot if thou'lt help me in any way to be 
revenged upon her. 






A.COMEDY, 157 

DOLLY. 

Nay, nay, you promifed me one lad fair, Will, 
and brought me home nothing but a twopenny bun 
after all. I know you well enough ; fo you may 
play your tricks off by yourfelf : I'll have nothing 
to do with you. (Exit. 

WILL. 

What ails the wench now, I wonder ; ever fince 
that there poet, as they call him, has been in the 
houfe, (he has fpoken to me as if I were a pair of 
old boots. _ (Exit. 

SCENE II. A Parlour. 

Enter Sir John Hazel wood and Worshipton. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Well, Ned, here is a rich heirefs unexpectedly 
fallen in our way ; you or I for her ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

If women favour'd men for their merit, Sir John, 
I mould not prefume to enter the lifts with you : 
but, luckily, they prefer a good complexion to a 
good underftanding ; a well-made leg to what my 
grandmother ufed to call a well-order'd mind \ and 
a very little faihion to a great deal of philofophy ; 
which makes us good-for-nothing fellows come far- 
ther into their good graces than wifer men think w r e 
are entitled to. 



itf THE COUNTRY INN: 



SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

You are very humble and very diffident truly : 
the meaning of what you fay being fimply this, 
that you are a mighty handfome fellow. Well, be 
it fo ; make as much of your perfonal qualifica- 
tions as you can : it were hard indeed if they did 
not fland you in fome good account, fmce you and 
your fafhionable brotherhood take no pains to ac- 
quire any other. 



WORSHIPTON. 

And they will (land us in good account, my 
good fir. Upon my honour we treat the fex in a 
much fairer manner than you do. She who mar- 
ries one of us fees what me gets, but he who pre- 
tends to a woman on the fcore of his mental ac- 
complifhments, holds out to her a mod deceitful 
lure. A man's temper and opinions may change, 
but he always wears the fame pair of legs. 



SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

There is fome reafon in this, I confefs : and 
there is one advantage you have in thus tricking 
out your four quarters for the market, — they are 
in no danger of going off for lefs than they are 
worth. Your man of ton, as you call it, mofl 
commonly ends his career by marrying juft fuch a 
woman as he deferves. 



A COMEDY. 159 



WORSHIPTON. 

End his career ! who the devil would marry if it 
were not to prolong it ? A man may indeed fome- 
times be tempted to marry a fafhionable beauty to 
pleafe his vanity. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Or break his heart. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Poh, poh ! there are more people who die of 
broken heads now o' days. A man may fometimes 
marry a woman of rank to be look'd up to by his 
old friends. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Or down upon by his new ones. 

WORSHIPTON. 

You are crufty now. — But a rich wife is the only 
one who can really excufe a young fellow for taking 
upon himfelf the fober name of hufband, 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

If this is your opinion, you had better ftili retain 
the more fprightly one of bachelor. 



WORSHIPTON, 

And leave the heirefs to you, Sir John. 



i6o THE COUNTRY INN: 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

No, Worihipton; there is not a woman now 
exiiling, as the world goes, that would fuit me; 
and I verily think that here as I (land, with all my 
opinions and habits about me, I would fuit no wo- 
man : I muft e'en remain as I am. 

WORSHIPTON. 

I wifh to God I could do fo too : I mould afk no 
better. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

What mould hinder you, young man ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

I am under the neceffity of marrying : my cir- 
cumftances oblige me to it. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

I am at a lofs to comprehend the neceffity you 
talk of. ' 

WORSHIPTON. 

Will three hundred a year and a commiffion in 
the army keep a man's pocket in loofe money, my 
good fir, iupport a groom and valet, a pair of riding 
horfes, and a curricle ? 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

I crave your pardon, fir : thefe things being 
neceffaries, you are perfectly in the right j and if 



A COMEDY. 161 

you choofe to impofe a difagreeable reflraint upon 
yourfelf for fuch neceflaries, nobody has any right 
to find fault with you* 

WORSHIPTON. 

Impofe upon myfelf a reflraint ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
pardon me! this is rather an amufing idea of 
yours, 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Why, you would not be bafe enough to marry a 
woman and negled: her. 

WORSHIPTON. 

No, Sir John ; I mould pay her as much atten- 
tion as women of the world now expect, and Ihe 
who is not fatisfied with that muft be a fool. 



SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Well, pray heaven you may find one wife enough 
to be fatisfied with you ! But if you ferioufly mean 
to pay your addreffes to Sir Rowland's heirefs, you 
muft inform her of the real date of your affairs. 
I'll have no advantage taken of a young woman 
under my eye, tho* it fhould be for the intereft of 
my family. 

WORSHIPTON. 

I (ball pretend to nothing but what fhe may be. 
ascertained of if ihe has eyes in her head. 

M 



i6i THE COUNTRY INN: 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

No, not fo eafily afcertained as you imaginec 
There is many a handfome man in the world whom 
nature never made fo. Flattery has foftened many 
a rugged vifage, and lick'd many an awkward cub 
into (hape > and he who takes this method of be- 
coming a pretty fellow before marriage, is bound 
in honour to continue it, that he may flill remain 
fuch after marriage. 

WORSH1PTON. 

What! mud I be repeating the fame thing to 
her all my life long ? Tell a woman once in plain 
Englifh that me is charming, and there is no danger 
of her forgetting it. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Well, deal honourably, and I fhall rejoice in 

your fuccefs. But I mull go to the (table and 

give directions to my groom : I mail return pre- 
fently. (Exit. 

worshipton C alone J. 
Honourably! yes, yes, we are all mighty con- 
fcientious in every thing that is for the intereft 
of another. But watch me as you pleafe, my 
good Sir John, you (han't find me out. What a 
plaguy thing it is to have an uncle of forty-one ! 
What a devil of an age it is ! for one has but little 
hoie of a legacy from it, and it has, at the fame 
time, ail the cold, cautious, advice-giving fpirit of 



A COMEDY. 163 

three fcore and ten. This Sir Rowland's daughter 
is a good fcheme, upon my foul. He muft be fickly, 
1 think, from his always living at home in fuch a 
retired fituation. I dare fay he'll die foon, and 
who knows but the lady may ftep off too, being of 
a fickly flock, Yes, I feel a perfuafion within me 
that I am born to be a lucky fellow. But hufh ! 
here come the ladies. The fat aunt walks firft, 
and the rich heirefs follows. A genteel-looking 
woman, faith ! this is admirable luck. But who is 
this awkward creature that comes fneaking after 
them ? fome humble relation, I fuppofe. 

Enter Lady Goodbody, Miss Martin and 
Hannah. 

lady goodbody. 
I beg pardon if I have made any miftakej I 
thought Sir John Hazelwood ■ 

WORSHIPTON. 

There is no miftake, madam ; Sir John will be 
here immediately. Permit me to place chairs. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

You are very obliging, but we have fat fo long 
in a clofe carriage this morning, that we mould be 
glad to (land a little while* Sir John's politenefs 
has made him facrifke his own convenience, I am 
afraid. 

Ms 



164 THE COUNTRY INN: 



WORSHIPTON. 

I am fure he is well repaid in the honour he re- 
ceives. (To Mifs Martin.) I hope, ma'am, you 
feel no bad effects from the cold journey you have 
had? 

MISS MARTIN. 

None at all, I thank you ; we have juft felt cold 
enough to make a warm room very comfortable 
after it. 

WORSHIPTON. 

What a charming difpofition, thus to extract 
pleafure from uneafinefs ? 



MISS MARTIN. 

The merit of finding a good fire comfortable after 
a cold winter journey, is one that may be claim' d 
without much diffidence. 



LADY GOODBODY. 

Pray, fir, did you ever fee fuch a heavy fall of 
fnow come on fo fuddenly ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

Really, madam, I don't recoiled. (Turning again 
to Mifs Martin.) But it is the character of true 
merit 






A COMEDY. i<5£ 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Pardon me, fir, you have fomething of the family 
face ; are you not related to Sir John ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

I have the honour to be his nephew, madam. 
(Turning again to Mifs Martin.) I fhall fall in love 
with rough weather for this day's good fortune. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

I fuppofe, fir, you are acquainted with the family 
of the Mapletofts in your county ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

I believe I have feen them. (Turning again to 
Mifs Martin, and continuing to /peak to her 
with much devotion* J 

lady goodbody (to Hannah). 
Well, my dear, you and I mull talk together I 
find. How did you like the country we pafs'd 
thro' to day ? 

HANNAH. 

La, aunt ! it is juft like our own ; I faw no dif- 
ference. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

You are foolifh, child ! is not our's a flat country 
clothed with trees, and this a bare and hilly one ? 
M 3 



266 THE COUNTRY INN: 

HANNAH. 

La, I did not look out of the coach windows all 
the way, except when we ftopp'd at the turnpike ; 
and Pm fure it is a little tiled houfe with a gate by 
the fide of it, jufl like the one near our own entry ; 
only that our's has got a pear-tree on the wall, and 
it has got fome dried turf piled up by the door, 
with a part of an old wheelbarrow. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Well, you'll have more obfervation by and by, 
I hope. 

Enter Sir John Hazel wood. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD, 

I am happy in the honour of feeing your lady* 
fhip and thefe fair ladies. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

And we reckon ourfelves particulary fortunate 
in meeting with you, Sir John ; you are very good 
indeed to give up fo much of your own accommo- 
dation to poor ftornvbound travellers. Allow me 
to prefent my nieces to you. ( After prefenting her 
nieces,) It is a long time fince we met, Sir John, 
you were then a mere lad, and I y/as not myfelf a 
very old woman, 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

1 remember perfectly the laft time I had the 



A COMEDY. 167 

pleafure of feeing your ladyihip, tho' being a 
bachelor (till, I don't care to fay how long it is ago. 
Your brother Sir Rowland was with you then ; I 
hope he is well. 



LADY GOODBODY. 

He is very well : I ought to have introduced his 
daughter to you particularly. (Sir John going up to 
Mifs Martin.) No, no! this (pointing to Hannah) 
is my brother Rowland's daughter. She is fome- 
what like her mother, who died, as you know, at a 
very early age, leaving him but this child. 

(Worfhipton, who is about to prefent with much 
devotion a glove to Mifs Martin, which Jhe had 
dropped, lets it fall out of his hand, and re- 
tiring fome paces hack, flares with aflonijh- 
went at Hannah.) 

sir john hazelwood (to Hannah). 
I am happy to have this opportunity of paying 
my refpecl: to the daughter of my old friend. I 
hope, madam, you will admit of this plea for being 
better acquainted. 

lady goodbody ( ' afide to Hannah). 
Anfwer him child. 

hannah (curtfying awkwardly). 
My father is very well, I thank you, fir. 
M 4 



*68 THE COUNTRY INN: 

miss martin (looking Jlyly at Worfhipton). 
I fancy, after all, I mull pick up this glove myfelf. 
I am afraid fome fudden indifpofition 

worshipton (confufedly). 
I beg pardon ! I — I have a flight pain in my 
jaw-bone ; I believe it is the tooth-ach. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

The tooth-ach ! how I pity you ! there is no 
pain in the world fo bad. But I have a cure for it 
that I always carry about in my pocket for the good 
of myfelf and my friends : do fwallow fome drops 
of it ; it will cure you prefently (offering him a 
phial). 

worshipton (retreating from her). 
You are infinitely obliging, madam, but I never 
take any thing for it. 

lady goodbody (following him with the phial). 
Do take it, and hold it in your mouth for fome 
time before you fwallow it. It is very naufeous, 
but it will cure you. 

worshipton (Jlill retreating). 
Pray, madam, be fo obliging as to excufe me : I 
cannot poflibly fwallow it. 



A COMEDY. 169 

lady goodbody (prejfing itjiill more earnefily). 
Indeed, indeed, it will cure you, and I muft pofi- 
lively infill upon your taking it. 

worshipton (defending himf elf vehemently). 

Pofitively then, madam, you oblige me to fay — . 
(breaking fuddenly away.) Pert take all the drugs 
in the world ! (Afide.) 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

You mud not, Lady Goodbody, infift on curing 
a man againft his will : he likes the pain perhaps : 
let him enjoy it. 

worshipton (returning). 
Indeed I am very much obliged to your lady- 
fhip ; I am much better now. Forgive my impa- 
tience ; I don't know what I faid. 

JLADY GOODBODY. 

I am very glad you are better, and I forgive you 
with all my heart, tho* it is a remedy that I have 
long had the greateft faith in, diftilPd by myfelf 
from the very bed ingredients, and has cured a 
great many people, I allure you. (To Sir John.) 
So you took this lady for Sir Rowland's daughter ? 
(pointing to Mifs Martin.) Do you fee no traces in 
her countenance of my fifter and Colonel Martin ? 
She loft both her parents early, and fhe has ever 
fince been my child. 



j;p THE COUNTRY INN: 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

You are happy in having fuch a daughter, 

LADY GOODBODY. 

I am fo : me is a very good girl, and has many 
excellent qualities, which young women now a-days 
do but rarely poifefs. 

SIR. JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

I dare fay (he is a mod amiable companion, 
whom you would be very unwilling to part with. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Nay, Sir John, 1 am not fo felfifh neither, but 
that I mould willingly give her up to a good huf- 
band. 

miss martin ( afide to Lady Goodbody). 
Blefs me, ma'am, why will you do this ? you 
know I can't bear it. (Aloud to Sir John.) You 
mufl not truft Lady Goodbody's account of me ; 
for if me thought fize neceflary to make a woman 
perfect, it would be difficult to perfuade her that I 
am not fix feet high. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Excufe me, ma'am, I have always trufted to Lady 
Goodbody's opinions, and have never felt more in- 
clination to do fo than at this moment. 



A COMEDY. 171 

LADY GOODBODY. 

She always behaves like a fool when me is 
praifed, and, excepting this, I don't know a fault 
that me has, 

(Enter a Servant announcing dinner.) 
(To Mifs Martin,) Go before, my dear, and place 
my chair as you know I like it. (Exit Mifs Martin, 
followed by Sir John leading out Lady Goodbody.) 

Worshipton (looking ajkance at Hannah, and then 
going up to her with an unwilling Jhrug). 

Permit me to have the honour « 

(Exit, handing her 011U 



£*JD OF THE FIRST ACT, 



i?2 THE COUNTRY INN 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. Lady Goodbody, Mifs Martin, and 
Hannah, Sir John Hazel wood, Worfhiptom, and 
Amaryllis, dif covered fitting by a table y with ivine 
and gla£es\ &c. before them. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

But indeed, my dear Sir John, you ought to 
marry. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Indeed, my dear Lady Goodbody, I can*t fee 
that I am in duty bound fo to do. 



LADY GOODBODY. 

Ah, but you are tho* ! It would have made your 
good worthy grandmother fo happy to have feen 
children of yours growing up to preferve the ho- 
nours of the family. 



SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

It is too late now to think of pleafing my grand- 
mother after (he has been twenty years in her 
grave : your ladyfhip mufl offer fome other argu- 
ment to convince me. 



A COMEDY. 173 

LADY GOODBODY. 

You owe it to your country then : all families 
who have good fortunes and good blood in their 
veins, fhould # be kept up for the lake of their coun- 
try. Is not every body forry when a houfe of this 
kind becomes extinct ? 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

If I thought my eftates would ceafe to bear corn 
and hay upon them in pofTeffion of a different fa- 
mily, I mould marry to-morrow for the good of 
the country moil certainly. I fhould be very forry 
to be fure to make every body forry for my want of 
heirs : but I remember when my neighbour Squire 
Wheelbarrow loft his only fon, there was as much 
merry-making, and as much ale drank at the very 
next fair, upon his own eflate too, as if nobody 
had cared a ru(h about the matter. I believe you 
muft produce fome ftronger reafon flill, my lady, 

WORSHIPTON. 

Yes, do keep it up, madam ! don't let him off fo 
eafily. 

lady goodbody. (gayly). 
For the fake of the ladies then, Sir John, you 
ought to be a bachelor no longer. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Now your lady (hip attacks him from a ftrong 
port. 



ip* THE COUNTRY INN- 

AMARYLLIS. 

Now, madam, you touch the fineit chord of the 
foul's harmony. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

She does ; I allow it. But I contend that I am 
of more fervice to the ladies in my prefent ftate 
than I could poflibly be in any other. Have I not 
danced at our country balls with all the neglected 
damfels who could find no partners to lead them out 
for thefe ten years pad ? and do I not ftill ferve as 
a forlorn hope to half the defponding maidens and 
unfettled widows of the weft-riding of Yorkfhire ? 

w t orshipton (to Lady Goodbody). 
Upon my honour, madam, he tells you ferious 
truth as to the neglected damfels, for he has danced 
with them fo often, that it would be no longer the 
fafhion for any other kind of damfels to dance 
with him if he had not too good an eftate to be 
rejected. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Your fervices to the ladies are too general, Sir 
John ; to make one defer ving woman happy is the 
belt way of fhewing your refpect for them. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

And what lady, my good madam, will expedt 
happinefs from an elderly rufticated bachelor \ 



A COMEDY. 175 



LADY GOODBODY. 

No fenfible woman diflikes an agreeable man be- 
eaufe he may be pad the heyday of his life. My 
niece here (pointing to Mifs Martin) has often faid to 
her giddy companions, that an agreeable man of 
forty is preferable to the frivolous young men of 
the world that one meets with every where now- 
a-days. 

MISS MARTIN. 

You would oblige me very much, my dear ma- 
dam, if you would fpeak your own fentiments, 
without doing me the honour to make me fo much 
wifer than I pretend to be. 



SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

If your ladyfhip pleafes we mall drop this fub- 
jecl. I am obliged to you for your friendly advice, 
but it is not in my power to profit by it ; for I can- 
not, for the mere love of being married, yoke my- 
felf to a bad wife ; and I am fo capricious and fo 
Itrange with my old-rooted habits, that I really 
don't deferve to have a good one. 

WORSHIPTON. 

That is the very cafe with him madam ; he muft 
have, forfooth, fuch a woman as the fun never be- 
held : a woman of wit who holds her tougue ; a 
good houfewife who teizes nobody with her eco^. 



rfi THE COUNTRY INN: 

nomy ; and a woman who knows the world, and 
yet prefers retirement in the country, and his ho- 
nour's amiable converfation, to every thing in it* 
May I be -if* ever I require more of any wo- 
man than to be well drefs'd and look pretty as long 
as I live. 

lady goodbody (to Sir John). 
Do you tolerate oaths in your prefence ? 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

I don't at leaf! encourage them by my example. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Hew mould you, my good fir ? you bury your- 
felf fo much in the country you fcarcely know what 
oaths are in ufe. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

That is not my reafon for abflaining from them, 
however : if ever I mould betake myfelf to fwear- 
ing, I (hail give myfelf very little concern about 
the fafhion of the oath ; ods bodiktns will do well 
enough for me, and lack-a-dayfy for my wife, if I 
fhould ever be happy enough, following Lady 
Goodbody's advice, to have one. But Mr. Ama- 
ryllis are you filent all this while ? it is furely your 
turn next to tell us what kind of a woman you pre- 
fer : fome very refined being undoubtedly. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Beauty, wit, fafhion, and economy are prized by 



A COMEDY. iyy 

moft men, Sir John, but let the maid whofe tender 
fenfibility, whofe foft delicacy, whofe fympathy of 
foul gently animates her countenance, be my por- 
tion, and every other thing I can difpenfe with. 

MISS MARTIN. 

You three gentlemen, at lead, are fo far lucky 
in your tafles, that you are in no danger of ever 
becoming rivals. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

I muft own, however, Sir John's choice appears 
to me to be the moft reafonable, and not fo difficult 
to be met with neither. My nieces fpend many 
lonely months in the country with me, and Mifs 
Martin prefers it, tho' fhe is naturally of a gay 
difpofition ; why mould we not believe then that 
there are many young women in the world of the 
fame character? 

miss martin ( ajide to Lady Goodbody). 
For heaven's fake, ma'am, give this up ! you'll 
put me belide myfelf. 

lady goodbody ( ajde to Mifs Martin). 
You're a fool, and don't know when one is 
ferving you. 

sir john hazel wood (to Mifs Martin). 
There is nothing can be faid in your praife, 
madam, that will not be readily credited -, but to 
prefer country retirement, and a bachelor pail the 

. N 



i;8 THE COUNTRY INN: 

noon of his days, is a lingular tafte for a young an & 
gay woman. 

MISS MARTIN. 

Perhaps it is fo : but unluckily it is one to which 
I make not the fmalfeft pretenfions. I love the 
amufements of town to a folly ; retirement is irk- 
fome to me ; and I hate a capricious old (fop- 
ping Jhort as if/hocked at her/elf, with great 
embarr affluent*) 

lady goodbodv (very angrily), 
Mifs Martin : how can you be fo perverfe J 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Pray, my dear madam, let us not fall out about 
mis foolifh jeft which we have kept up too long, 
Here comes a ftrange original old fellow who is in 
the cuflom of amufmg us a little after dinner, but 
he forgets that there are ladies with us at prefent. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Pray let him come, we mall be glad to hear him 
talk a little. 

Enter David. 

david (to Sir John),- 
A good afternoon to your honour. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

How do you do, my honeft friend David i 



A COMEDY. 179 

• DAVID. 

As well as a dry mouth and an empty head will 
allow a poor filly fellow like me to be. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Ay* David, wife men always fpeak modeftly of 
themfelves, tho' they don't infill upon every body 
believing them. Here is fomething for thy dry 
mouth ; you mull drink a bumper to the ladies' 
healths* 

/ 

DAVID. 

Such ladies as thefe deferve bumpers a-piece to 
their healths. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

So they do ; and here's the firft for you. 

(Filling him a glafs.) 

David (drinking). 
My humble refpecls to your Ladyfhip. 

(To Lady Goodbody.) 

LADY goodbody. 

I'm proud of the refpecl: of fo wife a man, Mr* 
David. 

DAVID. 

O Lord, madam, why fhould I be held in any 
account? What tho* a body may have a better 
underftanding of things, and a better way of fetting 

N2 



iSo THE COUNTRY FNN: 

his words in order, as it were, than another ; 'tis 
all but the gift of God, and why fhould a body be 
proud of it ? 

MISS MARTIN. 

But folks will be proud of any gift, Mr. David, 
unlefs they be endued, like you, with the rare gift 
of modefty alfo. 

DAVID. 

Faith, young lady, you're in the rights of it there. 
Here's to your very good health : here's to your 
fecret inclinations. 

MISS MARTIN. 

I thank you ; but you are waggifh as well as wife. 

DAVID. 

O yes, madam ! nothing comes amifs to me. 
After I have been talking, mehap of the Pope, or 
the Emperor, or the land-tax, or the folemn league 
and covenant, I can jufl go and break my jefts 
among the women as if I were no better than one 
of themfelves. 

MISS MARTIN. 

How wonderfully condefcending to the poor filly 
v^cmen ! 

DAVID. 

O yes, madam, I have no pride about me : I 
can juft talk like one of themfelves. (Drinking to 



A COMED Y. 1S1 

Hannah.) My fervice to you, young lady. (Raifng 
his voice.) Yes, yes, commend me 10 thewomen: they 
don't envy any little wit that one may have. But 
confcience, I care for the face of no man ! (Look- 
ing at Amaryllis.) Some of them, mehap, have 
read more books than me, and can tell you the 
Latin for one word and the Greek for another, and 
the likes o' that ; but for good deep ienfe, and a 
knack at a comparifon, Til defy the bed of them 
all. Ods dickens ! I could find ye out a fimilitude 
for the fun, moon, and (tars, in the paring of a 
black pudding's end. Laughing without, and 

Will'j head feen peeping at the door which 

David had left a-jar.J 

SIR JOHN HAZEL WOOD, 

What's that ? 

DAVID. 

By my troth, I've forgot my errand ! I have 
brought the poor girl who fings fo well to divert 
your honours, and fhe is waiting at the door with 
fome ill-manner'd companions along with her. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Pray bring her in, we fhall be glad to have a 
long from her. 

(David goes to the door, and leading in Sally, 
Jhuts it in Will's face with great indignation. J 

david (to Sally). 
Come in, huiley, and let thofe fneering varlets 
N 3 



i32 THE COUNTRY INN: 

amufe themfelves. Sing the ladies one of your 
new fongs. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

I believe they would rather have one of your 
old ones. 

SALLY. 

Will you pleafe to have the Sailor's Courtfhip ta 
the Tinker's Daughter 5 or, " My tatter'd Hofe 
and clouted Shoon ?" 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

I rather think the clouted fhoon will do beft. 

SONG. 

Tho 9 richer /wains thy love purfue, 
In Sunday geer, and bonnets new ; 
And evry fair before thee lay 
Their filken gifts with colours gay ; 
They love thee not, alas ! fo well 
As one whojtghs and dares not tell ; 
Who haunts thy dwelling, night and noon 
In tatter'd hofe and clouted fhoon* 

J grieve not for my wayward lot, 
My empty folds, my roofefs cot ; 
Nor hateful pity proudly Jhczvn, 
Nor alter 9 d looks, nor friend/hip flown } 
Nor yet my dog with lanken fides , 
Who by his mafler ftill abides ; 
But how will Nan prefer my boon, 
In tatter'd hofe and clouted flmn / 






A C O M E D Y. 183 



MISS MARTIN. 

She has a charming voice, and fings with fomc 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Who taught you thefe fongs, Sally? 

1 

SALLY. 



My father, fir •, he's a fid- 



david (pinching her arm qfide.J 
Fiddler an't genteel ; fay he's a muficianer. 

SALLY. 

He's a muficianer, fir. 

(Worfhipton laughs impertinently, and flares at 
Sally, who keeps retiring in confufion as he 
Jiill continues to Jiare, and at lafi runs out,) 

DAVID. 

Is the fheep-faced fool gone ? 

(Exit after her in great indignation. 

worshipton (to Amaryllis). 
Let us go and coax her to return. 

(Exit Worfhipton and Amaryllis), 

SIR JOHN HAZEL WOOD. 

She is very young, and we muft excufe her # 
N 4 



iS 4 THE COUNTRY INN: 

LADY GOODBODY. 

There are more people here than her who ought 
to plead the fame excufe. Mifs Martin, you have 
behaved very ftrangely, and can only be pardoned 
on account of your youth. 

MISS MARTIN. 

I have done fo many foolifh things for fix-and- 
twenty years part, that you are really very good, 
my dear madam, to pardon me on that fcore. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

What do you mean ? what do you mean, child, 
by calling yourfelf older than you are ? 

MISS MARTIN. 

I have been of age thefe five years, and moil 
people, I believe, will call that fix-and-twenty. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Your fervant, ladies, we fhall meet again at the 
tea-table. . (Exit. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Very well, very well, Mifs Martin ! fmce you will 
be fix-and- twenty, tho' you know well enough you 
want two months and a half of it, with all my heart. 
But allow me to tell you, a maiden of that age 
mould look pretty fharply about her if fhe would 
not ftill remain a lonely maiden all her life. 



A C O M E D Y. 185 

MISS MARTIN. 

I am fure it were better to remain a lonely- 
maiden all my life than take up with fuch pitiful 
company as fome of your good matrons do, and 
rather more refpe&able too. 

LADY G00DB0DY. 

No, child ; a married woman is always more 
refpe&able than a fingle one, let her be married to 
whom fhe will. 

MISS MARTIN. 

Indeed ! Can one give to another what he is not 
poflefs'd of himfelf ? Can a woman receive any 
additional refpe&ability becaufe fome drivelling, in- 
fignificant man, whom all the world defpifes, has 
put a wedding-ring upon her finger ! — ha ! ha ! ha ! 
But I fuppofe a good fettlement is the honour your 
Ladyfhip means. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

No, indeed : I fay, every married woman is more 
refpectable than a fingle one, independently of all 
fettlements. What elfe do you think would have 
induced me, with the fortune I had, to marry Sir 
Benjamin Goodbody ? for his perfon was difagree- 
able, and his bed friends admitted he was no 
conjurer. Don't miftake me, however, I mean no 
difrefpecl to his memory. He was a very good man, 
and I have lamented him fmcerely. And what elfe 



.i86 THE COUNTRY INN: 

do you think would have induced my coufm 
Frances to give her hand to that poor puny creature, 
Mr. Perewinkie, but to place herfelf in this refpecl- 
able ftate* 

MISS MARTIN. 

Ha! ha! ha] I did not expecl to hear fuch 
ftrong examples quoted from my own family. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Don't make a jeft of it : I fpeak ferioufly, and 
you ought to think ferioufly. 

MISS MARTIN. 

I think very ferioufly that, if you would not pefler 
me continually with attempts to make up a match 
for me with every man of fortune that falls in our 
way, I fhould be very happy, my dear aunt, to live 
ilill with you, and take care of your declining years, 
in return for the tendernefs and attention you have 
beftowed on my youth. Why would you put me 
away from you ? are you tired of my company ? 

JLADY GOODBODY. 

Oh, Mary ! talk not of taking care of my de- 
clining years : I mould be contented to be crippled 
or bed-ridden all my life, could I but fee you hap- 
pily and honourably married. 

-miss martin (kijfing Lady Goodbody'j hand ten* 
derlyj. 
My dear aunt ! pardon my petulance and eager> 



A COMEDY. *8? 

nefs. I will drive to pleafe you more : but do give 
Up the prefeut purfuit, I befeech you. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

No, no, my dear ! I love you too well for that, 
J3ut I am unfit to fay any thing to you at prefent. 

(Exit. 

Miss martin (looking after her. J 
My dear, kind, perverfe aunt ! you will be the 
death of me. (To Hannah.) Come, my dear, 
we'll retire to our rooms too. What have you 
t>een thinking of all this time I 

HANNAH. 

. I have juft been wondering whether my grand* 
mother was chriftened Hannah or Hanabella. 



MISS MARTIN. 

What puts that into your head ? 



HANNAH. 

Becaufe Mr. Worfhipton faid at dinner, when 
my aunt call'd me Hannah, that (he fhould have 
caird me Hanabella, which is a prettier name. 



MISS MARTIN. 

Mr. Worfhipton has been amufmg himfelf.— *Oh 
heigh ho ! I wifh we were at home again, in our 
sld manfion in the north. 



1S8 THE COUNTRY INN; 



Enter Hopkins. 

hopkins (gently putting her hand on Mifs Martin's 
J boulder ). 
My dear child ! pardon the liberty : I ftill feel 
for you the affection of a dry nurfe : what is the 
matter with you ? 

MISS MARTIN. 

Still the old grievance, my dear Hopkins; my 
aunt trying to make up a match for me. 

HOPKINS. 

Ay, poor good lady : me can't leave that alone 
for the foul of her. She would make up matches 
at home for every country girl in the neighbour- 
hood if (he could. I even believe, if I had not 
been once married already, which {he thinks fuffi- 
cient for the credit of any woman, fhe would ftill 
be for trying to make up a match for my old crazy 
bones, God help me ! — But don't let it vex you 
thus, my dear ma'am : I have brought you fome- 
thing that will pleafe and divert you. 

MISS MARTIN. 

"What is that, Hopkins ? 

HOPKINS. 

A letter from my little boy whom my lady puts 
to fchool, written with his own hand, dear little 

2 



A COMEDY. 1S9 

fellow ! and the firlt he ever wrote in his life. It 
begins " Dear Mother," and all as pretty as any 
other letter. 



MISS MARTIN. 

I thank you, my good Hoppy ! I (hall indeed 
have a pleafure in reading it. Go with me to my 
room, and fhew it me there : It does my ill-humour 
good to fee thee fo happy ; I will ftrive to think 
lefs of my own concerns. (Exeunt* 

SCENE II. A f mail room leading to other rooms in 

the houfe: Jenkins dif covered Jlanding at one of 

the doors, behind which hang great coats, Eff/r. 

beckoning to fomebody who does not appear; pre- 

fently enters Wormipton ? y?^//2g upon tiptoe, 

WORSHIPTON. 

Thou hail fome intelligence for me ? 

(In a low voice,) 

JENKINS. 

Yes ; the old lady and her woman are coming 
this way prefently to go to Mifs Martin's room, and 
the heirefs will follow them as foon as fhe can find 
a glove that fhe is fearching for. I heard this juft 
now as I liften'd at her door ; fo conceal yourfelf 
here amongfl thefe great coats for a few minutes, 
and you may way-lay her as fhe paffes. 

(Speaki?ig in a balfwhifper.) 



i$o THE COUNTRY INNi 

WORSHIPTON. 

Is my uncle (till reading in the next chamber ? 

JFNKINS. 

I believe fo. f Going to a door at the bottom of the 

Jtage, and li/iening.) He is juft now rifmg to go away* 

( Worfhipton Jhrtnks back, and is going hajlily out.) 

No, no ! don't be afraid ; he is gone out the other 

way to vifit old Rycroft, I fuppofe. 

worshipton (/peaking in a loud voice). 
Good then : we fhall have the coafl: clear : let 
us hide ourfelves. Thou muft remain with me, for 
I may have occafion for thee. 

(Hide themj elves among ft the great coats.) 

Enter Lady Goodbody and Hopkins, talking as 
they enter. 

lady goodbody (in rather a low voice). 
Very true, Hopkins, and if my god-daughter 
turns out an indufhious girl, I'll add fomething to 
what fhe faves myfelf, to get her a hufband ; for 
you know fhe is not very fightly. 

Hopkins (in a loud voice, having lingered fome pace- 
be hind to pick up fomething Jhe has dropt). 
Ay, there is plenty of hufbands to be had, my 
Lady, tho* a girl be ever fo homely, if fhe have but 
money enough. (Exeunt Lady Goodbody and 
Hopkins.) 



A COMEDY. 191 

worshipton (behind the door). 
Ay, they are talking of their heirefs now. They 
are devilifhly fufpicious of defigns upon her, but 
we'll jockey them for all that. Ha ! here comes 
the game. 

Enter Hannah (and Worfhipton comes from his 
concealment). 

HANNAH. 

O la ! are you there, Mr. Worfhipton ? I faw 
nobody here but the great coats hanging by the 
wall. 

WORSHIPTON. 

You are not offended, I hope, that a great coat 
fhould be turned into fomething that can fpeak to 
you, and gaze upon you, and admire you, Mifs 
Clodpate. (Ogling her.) 

HANNAH, 

La, now ! it is fo droll ! 

jenkins (peeping from his hiding-place). 
Droll enough, by my faith ! 

WORSHIPTON. 

I have been waiting here concealed a long time 
for this happinefs ; for your aunt is fo jealous I can 
3 



19* THE COUNTRY INN: 

find no opportunity of fpeaking to you. She knows 
well enough it is iinpofliible to behold fuch beauty 

and attraction without pardon me : you 

know very well what I would fay to you if I durft 

HANNAH. 

La, no ! how mould I know. Do you mean 
that I am beautiful, and what d'ye call it ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

Indeed I do : your beauty mufl be admired, tho' 
your prudent aunt does all me can to conceal it. 

HANNAH. 

La, now ! you fay fo becaufe my hair has been al- 
lowed to grow fo long, and aunt and every body 
fays that my ears are the prettied thing about me. 
But it an't aunt's fault : 1 fhall have it cut when, 
we go to town. (Putting her hair behind her ears 

awkwardly with her Jingers^ a?id beginning 

to look rather brijk.) 

worshipton (looking at them with affecled admira- 
tion, J 
O, beautiful indeed 1 

jenkins (peeping from his hiding-place J. 
Ay, I thought the beauty lay hid under fome 
fnug covert or other : it was deviiifhly well con- 
ceal'd by my faith ! 



A COMEDY, 193 

HANNAH. 

La, now ! did you think they were as pretty as 
they are ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

I muft confefs I mould have expe&ed to find 
them fomewhat of a longer fhape. But conceal 
them for pity's fake, my charming Hannah ; this is 
dangerous* 

HANNAH* 

Hanabella, you know* ' 

WORSHIPTON. 

O yes, Hanabella I mean. It is dangerous ta 
look upon fo much beauty, when one at the fame 
time thinks of the extraordinary accomplifliments 
of your mind. 

HANNAH. 

La, now ! who has told you that I got by heart 
fix whole parts of the hundred and nineteenth 
pfalm, word for word, in the fpace of two mornings 
only, and every body laid it was very extraor- 
dinary ? Somebody has told it you I know. 

WORSHIPTON. 

No, nobody ; I juft found it out myfelf. 

HANNAH. 

La, now ! that is fo wonderful ! Aunt herfelf 
O 



J94 *■- THE COUNTRY INN: 

faid that my coufin Martin could not have done it 
fo well. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Your coufin Martin ! would any one compare 
you together ? Don't you know how much every 
body is delighted with you ? 

HANNAH. 

La, no ! nobody tells me any thing about it. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Indeed ! that is very extraordinary : but they 
have their own ends in that. Don't they watch 
you, and keep always fomebody near you ? 

HANNAH. 

To be Cure my aunt often defires my coufin to 
take care of me when we go out. 

WORSHIPTON. 

I thought fo. — Ah ! my charming Hanabella ! 
(Sighs two or three times, but Jhe continues 
flaring vacantly, without taking any notice 
ofit.) 

jenkins (afide to Worfhipton as he walks near his - 
hiding place, rather at a lofs what to do J. 
Give a good heavy grunt, _fir, and fhe'll afk 
what's the matter with you: mere fighing is no 
more to her than the blowing of your nofe. 



A C O M E D Y. 195 

vvorshipton (ogling Hannah, and giving a groan). 
Oh ! oh ! 

HANNAH. 

La ! what is the matter with you ? have you the 
ftomach ach ? My aunt can cure that. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Nay, my dear Hanabella, it is yourfelf that mud 
cure me. I have got the heart-ach. It is your 
pity I mud implore. (Kneeling and taking her hand,) 

HANNAH, 

O, fure now! to fee you kneeling fo— it is fo 
droll ! I don't know what to fay, it is fo droll. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Say that you will be mine, and make me happy: 
there is nothing a lover can do, that I will not do 
to pleafe you. 

HANNAH, 

Mifs Languifh's lover made fongs upon her. 

WORSHIPTON. 

I'll do fo too, or any thing : but don't let your 
aunt know that I have fpoken to you, fhe would be 
fo angry. 

HANNAH. 

O no ! fhe is very fond of people being married, 
O2 



196 THE COUNTRY INN: 

WORSHIPTON. 

Yes, but fhe will be angry at us tho' ; fo don't 
tell her, nor Mifs Martin, nor any body a word of 
the matter. Do promife this, my charming Hana- 
bella ! my life depends upon it. (Kneeling again, 
and taking her hand.) O don't pull away from me 
this fair hand I 

HANNAH. 

La ! I'm Aire I an y t pulling it away. 

worshipton (Jiarting up fuddenly from his knees). 
There's fomebody coming. (Runs out and leaves 
Hannah Jirangely bewildered, and not know- 
ing where to run.) 

HANNAH. 

O dear, dear ! what fhall I do ! 
Enter Hopkins. 

HOPKINS. 

What is the matter, Mifs Clodpate ? My Lady 
fent me to fee what is become of you : are you 
frightened for any thing, that you keep (landing 
here in fuch a ftrange manner ? 

HANNAH. 

O la, no ! but I juft thought fomehow, that you 
would think there was fomebody with me. (Hop- 
kins looks about the room fufpicioufly.) O no : you 



A COMEDY. 197 

need not look for any body : thofe are only great 
coats by the wall, you fee; and Mr. Worfhipton's 
an't there, you fee ; for his has got five capes to it, 
and the cloth is of a much lighter colour, and it has 
got more button-holes to it too than any body's 
elfe in the houfe. 

hopkins (flill flaring flrangely about). 
Mr. Worfhipton's ! was he here ? 

HANNAH. 

La, no ! an't I juft telling you that he an't here ? 

hopkins (afide). 
Well this is droll enough too — but no, no! it' 
can't be any thing neither. (Aloud.) Your aunt 
is impatient for you, Mifs Clodpate. 

HANNAH. 

la ! I'm going to her directly. 

(Exeunt Hannah and Hopkins. 

jenkins ( 'coming forward from his hiding-place, and 
Jhrugging up his jhoulders as he looks after 
Hannah). 
This is the price my mafter is willing to pay for 

his curricle and his horfes. 

Re-enter Worshipton. 

WORSHIPTON. 

1 think we have done pretty well, Jenkins, for 
the firft onfet. 

63 



19S THE COUNTRY INN: 



JENKIKS. 

Yes to be fure, fir ; but — but— 

WORSHIPTON. 

But what, Jenkins ? 

JENKINS. 

Pardon my freedom, fir : — but don't you think 
fhe is rather too great a fool for 

WORSHIPTON. 

Poh ! poh ! poh ! me is all the better for that : 
it is a great advantage, and one that I am certain of, 

JENKINS. 

As to the certainty of it nobody will difputq 
that, I believe. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Don't trouble thy head about it, if Fm fatisfied. 
And remember the caution I gave you to fay no- 
thing, in the way of afking queftions at the fer- 
vants, to lead them to fufpecl what we are about. 

JENKINS. 

Don't be afraid of that, fir : I can't if I would ; 
for the man-fervant that attends them is a country 
booby, who has not been in the family a fortnight, 
and knows nothing at all about it ; and my Lady's 
woman, with her ftaunch old-fafhion'd notions, has 



A COMEDY. 199 

takea fuch a diflike to me that I hate to have any 
thing to fay to her. 

WORSHIPTON. 

So much the better. Yes, yes ! things will go 
fwimmingly on : I (hall foon jockey them all. 

(Exeunt. 



SCENE III. A chamber all littered over with 
books, papers, old coats , Jhoes , &c* &c, Amaryllis 
difcovered fitting by a table with a pen in bis band, 
and paper before binu After mufingfome time, he 
writes and then blots out what be has written. 

AMARYLLIS (to himfelf). 

This won't do : it does not found well. What 
a teafing thing it is, when one has got a beautiful 
line, to be ftopp'd thus for want of a good rhyme 
to couple with it ! (repeat'mg with great emphafis and 
gefliculation) 
" On thy ideal pinions let me fly, 
" High-foaring Fancy, far above the fky : 
" Beyond the ftarry fphere towering fublime, 
" Where vulgar thought hath never dar'd to— r 
No, climb does not pleafe me : it is too heavy a 
motion for thought. (Mufing and rubbing his fore- 
head,) " % - 
" Beyond all thought infpirmg vulgar rhyme." 
No, that won't do neither. (Mufing again and 
biting his nails. J Peft take it !- if I fhouk} bite my 

04 



?O0 THE COUNTRY INN: 

fingers to the quick it won't come to me. (A gentle 
knock at the door. J Who's there ? (in an angry 
voice.) 

dolly (half opening the door). 
*Tfe I, fir : does your fire want coals ? 

amarylli$ (in a foftened voice). 
O, it is you, Dolly. Come in and fee, my good 
girl: (Enter Dolly, and pretends to be bufy in 
putting the room in order, whilfi Amaryllis takes his 
pen and begins fever al times to write, but as often lays 
it down again, looking at the fame time over his Jhoulder 
at her.) Plague take it ! fhe puts it all out of my 
head. (Leans his arm on the table for fome time, fill 
looking frequently about to her.) Faith, I believe (he 
Jias a fneaking kindnefs for me, me finds always fo 
many little things to do in my room. She's a good, 
rofy, tight girl, on my foul! (Afide.) No,- my 
pretty Dolly, that book is too heavy for you : I'll 
put it in its place. (Getting up with great animation 
and rwynin^ to her.) 

dolly. 
O no, fir ! I'll do it very well myfelf. I juft 
thought, as how your room would be in confufion, 

and fo — : — - 

AMARYLLIS. 

And fo you came to put my head into confufion 
too, you little baggage. 



A COMEDY. 23i 



DOLLY. 

fure! I hope not, fir. 

AMARYLLIS. 

You're a fly gipfy, Dolly. But you think of me 
fometimes then, eh ? (Pinching her ear and patting 
her cheek,) 

WORSHIPTON ('Without). 

Amaryllis ! Amaryllis ! are you at home, Ama- 
ryllis ? 

Amaryllis runs back to his table again 9 and 

pretends to be writings without attending to 

the ink/land andfeveral books which he over- 

Jets in his hajle, whilfi Dolly makes her efcape 

by the oppofite doorjujl as Worfhipton enters.) 

WORSHIPTON. 

1 heard you were at home, fo I made bold to 
enter. What, writing fo compofedly after all this 
devil of a noife? 

Amaryllis (looking up with qffecled apathy). 
Yes, I believe the cat has been playing her gam- 
bols amongfl my books. 

WORSHIPTON. 

It may have been the cat, to be fure, for 
thofe creatures have witchcraft about them, and 
can do many wonderful things o' winter nights, as 



202 THE COUNTRY fNN: 

my old nurfe ufed to tell me ; but if you had told 
me it was half a dozen of dogs that made fuch a 
noife, I mould fcarcely have believed you. Cats 
too can put on what forms they pleafe, I've been 
told ; and tho' they generally affume that of an 
old woman, your's has been more civil to you, I 
believe, in taidng the more agreeable form of a 
young one. I caught a glimpfe of her, Amaryllis, 
as fhe fled into the other chamber. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Poh ! Dolly has been putting my books in order : 
is fhe gone ? (Pretending to look round for her.) 

WORSHIPTON. 

Well, well, never mind it ! I came on a little 
bufmefs to you, elfe I mould have been ferry 
to difturb you ; for I know well enough you are 
always employed about fome fublime thing or other. 

AMARYLLIS. 

You are too flattering. — You come upon bufi- 
nefs ? 



WORSHIPTON. 

Yes, Amaryllis, and you are fo good-natured, 
that I fhan't make any preamble about it. I want 
to pleafe a lady, or make a lady believe I am 
pleafed with her, which is the fame thing, you 
know ; and I want to borrow one of your poems 
that I may prefent it to her as written in praife of 



A C O MED Y. 233 

herfelf. However, fne is not very refined in her 
tafte, any common-place thing will do. 

AMARYLLIS. 

I am infinitely flatter'd, Mr. Worfhipton, that 
you mould apply to me for a common-place thing. 
Since this is the ftyle of poetry that fuits you at 
preient, I can't help thinking you might have fuc- 
ceeded pretty well in writing it yourfelf. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Poh, now! you don't take my meaning. I meant 
any little piece that has coft you little time or 
fludy, will do very well for my purpole : I fhould 
be very forry to take 'one of your good ones. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Sir, I have bellowed fome time and fludy upon 
all my pieces, and fhould be rather unwilling to 
think I had any other to offer you. 

WORSHIPTON. 

How perverfe you are in mifunderftanding me 1 
The belt poet that ever lived has a beft and a woril 
poem, and I only make the humble requefl to have 
one of your lead fublime ones. Do, my dear 
friend, look thro' your budget. Many of your 
works, I know, are mafter-pieces, and I have had a 
great defire for a long time to hear you read fome 
of them, but was unwilling to diflurb you of an 
evening. 



204 THE COUNTRY INN: 

Amaryllis (foftened). 
I believe I muft find fomething for you. Will 
you have a love-fong or a fonnet ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

Any of them will do ; (he does not know the 
one from the other. 

Amaryllis (taking papers from his table). 
Here are verfes addrefied to Delia playing on 
the lute. 

worshipton (taking it J, 
This will do very well ; for tho* I don't believe 
fhe plays upon the lute, it will be civil to fuppofe 
that fhe does, till we really know the contrary. 

AMARYLLIS. 

You fpeak lightly of the lady, Worihipton, for 
a lover. 

WORSHIPTON. 

I am not fo refined in my ideas of thefe matters 
as you are, Amaryllis. I am a man of the world, 
and that character can't be fupported long on a 
(lender fortune : the lady is very rich.-^-But mum: 
not a word of this to any one. 

AMARYLLIS. 

You may depend upon me. But you faid you 
fhould like to hear me read fome of my- poems. I 



« 



A COMEDY. 205 

am not very bufy at prefent ; I will indulge you 
with pleafure. 

WORSHlPTOtt. 

You are extremely obliging. — For a man pretty 
well received by women of the firft circles, as I be- 
lieve without vanity I may fay of myfelf, it would be 
a filly trick to marry at all, did not my circum- 
ilances compel me to it ; but I fhall make fuch a 
choice of a wife as fhall make me pafs as much as 
poffible for a fingle man ftill. 

amaryixis (impatiently). 
Very well ! — I have a poem here which I think 
you will be pleafed with. 

WORSHIPTON. 

You are very good indeed. — But you fee how I 
am circumflanced : I mud have fortune. — How fool- 
ifh it was in the Marchionefs of Edgemore to think 
I was going to elope with Lady Sufan ! I never 
paid more than common attention to her in my 
life. It is impoflible for me to marry without for- 
tune. 

a m A r yl l I s (ftill more impatient) . 
Well that is all very true, — But here is a paf- 
toral which you will not, I hope, find unworthy 
your attention, if you will have the goodnefs to 
give it me. 



% 



2z6 THE COUNTRY INN: 



WORSHIPTCN. 

You are infinitely obliging ; but I am extremely 
forry my time will not at prefent allow me fo great 
a pleafure. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Then Til read you this elegy, which is fhorter, 

WORSHIPTON. 

I'm really obliged to you, but « 

AMARYLLIS. 

Or perhaps you would like to hear my grand ode^ 
which is in the next room. (Runs out to fetch it. J 

worshipton (alone J. 
How that man pefters one with his damned va- 
nity. Shall I make my efcape while he is gone ? 
No, no ! that would be too rude : I'll try another 
way of getting off. — Worfhipton ! Worfhipton ! 
(Cc with a feigned voice. J 

Re-enter Amaryllis, u poem in bis band, 

AMARYLLIS. 

Now, Worfhipton, I'll fhew you what I believe, 
without vanity, I may call hitting or! the figurative 
and fublime ftyle in poetry, pretty well. 

WORSHIPTON. 

I beg pardon : I am extremely mortified, but I 
cannot poffibly flay to hear it now, for Sir John 



i 



A COMEDY. 207 

waits without calling for me, and I muft pofitively 
go to him. Did you not hear him call very loud ? 

AMARYLLIS. 

0,if Sir John is without we can afk him in, and 
he (hall hear it too. (Going towards the door.) 

worshipton (flopping him eagerly). 
No, no, my good friend, not now, if you plcafe : 
it is impofiible : we mall hear you another time. 

AMARYLLIS. 

I fliall be at home all the evening 5 fhall I expect 
you half an hour hence ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

V 

No, not quite fo foon, I thank you ; we mail be 
engaged. But we fhall have great pleafure very 
foon — good bye to you. (Hurrying away.) 

Amaryllis (flopping him). 
In an hour then, perhaps, I may expect you : I 
(hall be at leifure all the evening. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Really you are mod exceedingly obliging, but I 
am afraid it will not be in our power. Excufe my 
hafte, I am very much difappointed. (Goi?ig haflily.) 

Amaryllis (flopping him again.) 
Nay, furely after fupper you can contrive to 
come to me. 



2o3 THE COUNTRY INN:. 

WORSHIPTON. 

O, no, no ! one has enough to do then to digeft 
the horrible eating of this diabolical inn, without 
furfeiting one's felf — =1 beg pardon ! without giving 

one's felf the pleafure, I meant to fay, of ex* 

cufe me ! excufe me ! I mud: not keep him waiting 
any longer ; you heard how loud he call'd me : 
I am extremely difappointed indeed. 

(Exit, breaking from him in great hajle* 

Amaryllis (looking after him angrily.) 
Well, let him go, pitiful fellow ! he is fo taken 
up with himfelf and his own little paltry vanity, he 
has neither capacity nor tafte to relifh high poetry. 

(Exit very majejlically* 



END OF THE SECOND ACT, 



A COMEDY. 209 



ACT III. 

A dark narrow pajfage-room, with the door of an ad' 
joining chamber left open^ in which are difcovered 
Lady Goodbody, Mifs Martin, and Hannah. 

Enter Sir John Hazel wood and Worshipton. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

1 he light is gone out : let us wait here till David 
brings us another candle. Ha ! is it fair to wait 
here ? ( Perceiving the ladies.) 

Lady goodbody ( ' within to Mifs Martin). 
Indeed, Mary, you ought to confider yourfelf 
as very fortunate in having the opportunity of 
pleafing an agreeable man. 

miss martin (within). 
Mr. Worfhipton do you mean? 

Worshipton (in a low voice ^flealing eagerly nearer 
the door). 
They are talking of me, dear creatures ; let us 
hear what they have to fay upon this fubjeft. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Fye, Worfhipton ! would you turn eve-dropper r" 
P 



2io THE COUNTRY INN: 



LADY GOODBODY. (within). 

No, you know well enough it is Sir John I 
mean. 

sir john hazelwood (drawing aJfo near the door). 
Ha ! talking of me too. Well, if people will 
converfe with their doors open, there is no help 
for it. 

miss martin (within J. 
How mould I know who your Ladyfhip means 
by an agreeable man ? 

LADY GOODBODY. 

You may know at lead who I do not mean ; for 
that poor frivolous fine gentleman can be agreeable 
to nobody. 

worshipton ( afide to himfelf). 
Old hag ! her face is as fenfelefs and as coarfe as 
a red- topped January turnip. 

LADY GOODBODY (within). 

Sir John is a man that any woman might like. 
He is a man of fortune. 

miss martin (within). 
So is our neighbour, Squire NumbfcuII. 

LADY GOODBODY (within). 

Fye, child ! Sir John is a well-made man, and — 
i 



A COMEDY. 21* 

MISS MARTIN (within). 

And fo I mud like him for not being crooked, 

LADY GOODBODY (within). 

You are both perverfe and foolifh. Sir John- 
Miss martin (within earnefily). 

If you have any love for me, aunt, drop this fub- 
je& for ever : the very mention of his name is dif- 
trefling to me. 

sir john hazelwood (in a low voice, turning from 
the door quickly). 
You need not be fo vehement, fair lady : I have 
no intention to give you the fmalleft trouble* 

LADY GOODBODY (withinj. 

I leave you to your own humours, Mifs Martin ; 

you have got beyond all bearing with your nonfenfe. 

(Exit into an inner chamber. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

I thought her fenfible, I confefs ; but how con- 
foundedly pert and flippant fhe has become. 

(Afide on the front of the Jlage.) 

worshipton (going to him conceitedly). 
You feem difturbed, Sir John, 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Not a jot ! not a jot, truly ! It rather amufes me. 
Pa 



ax* THE COUNTRY INN: 

Enter David with a candle, holding his fpread hand 
before it as iftopreve?it it from blowing out, 

DAVID. 

I fhould have brought the candle fooner, but I 
have but a fhort memory, your honour (to Sir 
John), and a man with a fhort memory is like a — 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

No matter what he's like : go on with the light, 
and we'll follow thee. (Exit David, looking very 
foolifh.) That fellow has become naufeous with 
his fimilies. (As they are going out Worfhiptony?^ 
Sir John.) 

WORSHIPTON. 

They fpeak again ; do flop here a moment. 

hannah (within). 
Would it grieve you, coufin, if my aunt were to 
propofeMr. Worfhipton to you inflead of Sir John? 

MISS MARTIN (within). 

No, my dear, not at all. 

worshipton (in a low voice )^ 
You fee I am in favour with the niece, Sir John, 
tho' the aunt gives the preference to you. 

hannah (within). 
I thought as much, for he's a very pretty gentle- 
man, isn't he ? 



A COMEDY. 213 

MISS MARTIN (within). 

He is even fo. 

hannah (within). 
And he drefies fo pretty and new faihion'd, 
don't he ? 

miss martin (within). 
It is very true. 

Hannah (within). 
And then he talks fo clever, like the fine captain 
that run off with Mifs Money. He is as cleyer 
every bit, altho* he don't fwear fo much ; an't he, 
Mary? 

Miss martin (within). 
I make no doubt of it. And had Lady Good- 
body laid her fnare to catch him for me, it would 
not have grieved me at all. 

worshipton (in triumph). 
Do you hear that, Sir John ? 

hannah (within). 
It would not have grieved you at all ? 

miss martin (within). 
No, my dear \ for with all thefe precious qualir 
ties of his, his good or bad opinion is of no confe- 
quence to me. I could bear fuch a creature to fuppofe 
J *have defigns upon him, without being uneafy 
about the matter. (Walking up and down di/lurbed % 

P3 



2i 4 THE COUNTRY INN: 

and then talking to herfelf.) To appear to Sir John 
Hazelwood as a female fortune hunter, endeavour- 
ing to draw in a wealthy hufband for her own con- 
venience — O, it is not to be endured ! To be de- 
graded in the eyes of the very man whofe good 
opinion I mould mofl value — it is enough to make 
one diffracted ! 

(Worfhipton retires behind Sir John very 

fooli/hly, who remains Jixed to the fpot with 

furprife.) 

hannah (within). 
Do you love Sir John ? 

miss martin (within). 
No, my dear, I am not weak enough to do that, 
when I know I fhall never be beloved again. Could 
I have gained his good opinion, I mould have been 
contented, without pretending to his heart. 

sir john hazelwood (vehemently). 
But thou fhalt have both, by this blefled hour ! 

miss martin (within). 
But now, as my aunt carries on her attack, I 
don't know how to maintain my credit : I fhall be 
compelled to be downrightly rude to him. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Ay, very right, very right, my brave girl ! — It is 
a glorious girl ! I adore her for her fpirit. 



A COMEDY. 215 

hannah (within). 
It gets very cold : I'll fhut the door now, for the 
fmoke is all gone. 

miss martin (within). 
What, has the door been ftanding open all this 
while ? 

hannah (within). 
Didn't you fee me open it to let out the fmoke ? 

MISS MARTIN ( Within), 

I am fo haraffed and vexed I don't fee what is 
before mine eyes : fhut it dire&ly. 

(Hannah Jhuts the door). 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD, 

We are dark now, but I hear David's footfteps 
in the paflage. Poor fellow ! I have affronted him. 
David ! friend David ! (Calling.) 

Re-enter David with a light, looking very four* 

DAVID. 

What do you want, fir ? 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

To be lighted to our rooms, my good David. — 
Nay, don't look fo grave, man. I fpoke rather 
fhortly to you, indeed, becaufe I was thinking of 
fomething elfe at the time : but you are too wife, 

P4 



2i5 THE COUNTRY INN: 

my good David, to mind fuch fmall trifles as 
thefe. 

David (with his face brightening J* 
Lord love you, fir ! I have both given and taken 
fhort words ere now : that is nothing to me. But 
I wifh I may remember to call your honour in the 
morning, for as I was a faying, a man with a ihoxt 
memory 

SIR JOHN HAZEL WOOD.. 

Yes, yes, let us have it all now, as we go along ; 
and put this under your pillow to prevent you from 
over-fleeping yourfelf, my friend David. 

(Giving him money.) 

DAVID. 

O Lord, fir, I can't refufe any thing your honour 
offers me, but there is no occafion for this, 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Put it in your pocket, man : there is a virtue 

in it. (They move on; Sir John following David, 

and Worfhipton kicking. his foins from fde to 

Jide, with affecled carelejfnefs^ as he goes after 

them.) 

sir john hazelwood (archly turning as he goes 
out). 
Thou'rt making a ftrange noife with thy feet, 
Worfhipton. (Exeunt* 



-A COMEDY. 217 

SCENE II. WorfhiptonV chamber, 
gnter Worshipton, calling as he enters. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Jenkins ! Jenkins ! 

JENKINS (without J. 

Here, fir. 

Enter Jenkins in his great coat and boots* 

WORSHIPTON. 

Are you ready to let off fpr this fame licenfe ? 

JENKINS, 

Yes, fir, in a moment. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Well, make good fpeed then : there is no time 
to lofe. Remember all the dire&ions and precau- 
tions I have given you : and think as thou goefl 
along that thou art working for thyfelf as well as 
me, for thy fervices (hall be npbly rewarded. Thou 
ihalt have a flice out of Sir Rowland that will 
fatten thee up by and by into a man of fome confer 
quence. Good fpeed to thee, my good Jenkins ! 
and ufe thy difcretion in every thing.— rHafl thou 
befpoke mufic for our ferenade ? 

JENKINS. 

I have found a forry fiddler, who has got but 
three firings to his violin, for the fourth is fupplied 

5 



2i8 THE COUNTRY INN: 

by a bit of pack-thread ; and an old Highland 
piper, who has flopped here on his way from Lon- 
don to Lochaber; befides a bear-leader, who is 
going about the country with his hurdy-gurdy. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Well, well ! if they make but noife enough it 
will do. But the mofl important thing is to have 
the chaife in waiting behind the old mill, that 
while the mufic is dinning in the ears of the old 
lady and her woman, we may convey our prize to 
it without being fufpected. Have you engaged 
Will in our interefl ? and does he fay the road be- 
tween this and Middleton church is now paffable ? 

JENKINS. 

You may depend upon him, fir, and the road too, 

WORSHIPTON. 

Thou art Aire I may depend upon him ? 

JENKINS. 

Sure of it, fir. He will do much, he fays, to 
ferve your honour, but he'll go thro' fire and water 
to vex the old beldame. Lady Goodbody he 
means : he owes her a turn, I believe, for a half- 
crown fhe fcrubbed off him when fhe paid him for 
the lafl ft age he drove her. 

WORSHIPTON. 

This is fortunate. Where is Sir John juft now ? 



A COMEDY. 219 

JENKINS. 

With old Rycroft: he always gives him his 
draughts with his own hand, left it fhould be 
neglected. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Then I may go to the ftable without danger, and 
have fome converfation with Will myfelf. By the 
bye I have never vifited that old fick devil yet ; do 
you tell him that I enquire for him fometimes ? 

JENKINS. 

I do, fir, and Rycroft don't exped more from 
you. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Very well, that is enough.- — But we lofe time. 
Here is money for thee : fet off immediately. 

(Jenkins receives money and exif 4 

worshipton (alone J. 
If this fucceeds now, it will be a devilifh lucky 
turn in my fortune ; for I fhould have found it a 
difficult matter to have lived much longer upon 
credit. (Mufing a while.) I wifh after all it were 
a lefs expenfive thing to be a man of fafhion. Gold, 
as the proverb fays, may be bought too dear. — No, 
no : it can't be bought too dear by one who knows 
how to fpend it with fpirit. I {hall, at leaft, have 
every thing my own way, for fhe is a great fool ; 
that is one good thing we are fure of, (Exit. 



0,20 THE COUNTRY INN: 

SCENE in. A pajfage or outer room. 

Enter sir john hazel wood, looking eagerly to the 
oppofitefide oftheftage. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Here comes a lady, but not the one I'm in wait 
for. 

Enter Hannah. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Good morning, Mifs Clodpate, I hope your 
morning dreams have not been unpleafant : you 
are early up. 

HANNAH, 

I miftook the hour when the clock ftruck, for it 
is a queer-founding clock they have here, and don't 
f|:rike at all like the one we have at home. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Good young ladies like every thing at home bed. 

HANNAH. 

Yes indeed I do, for it was made by Mr. Pendlam, 
the great clock-maker in London. Isn't he clock- 
maker to the king ? 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Indeed I don't know ma'am. — But what pretty 
gloves you have got, Mifs Clodpate ; aren't they of 
a particular colour I 



A COMEDY. iii 

HANNAH. 

La ! do you think them pretty ? My aunt fays 
they are not pretty, but I think they are, and that 
was the reafon why I bought them. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

And an excellent one too, madam. Pray when 
did you fee your worthy father, Sir Rowland ? I 
hope he enjoys as good fpirits as he ufed to do long 
ago? 

HANNAH. 

1 faw him the twenty-fourth of laft September, 
and he was very well, I thank you, fir. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Does he never leave home now ? 

HANNAH. 

O, there is Mifs Martin coming ; I muft go away. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

And why muft you go ? 

HANNAH. 

Becaufe my aunt fays — —in eafe you mould 
have any thing to fay to her. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

You are perfectly right to do whatever yout aunt 
defires you. (Exit Hannah. 



222 THE COUNTRY INN: 

Enter Miss Martin by the oppofite fide. Sir John 
looking at her with great fatisf action as Jhe ap- 
proaches. She curtfies flightly, continuing to pafs on. 

SIR JOHN HAZEJLWOOD. 

Good morning, madam. 

MISS MARTIN. 

Good morning, fir. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Do you pafs me fo haftily, Mifs Martin ? To 
run away fo were enough to put it into a vain 
perfon's head to believe himfelf dangerous. 

MISS MARTIN. 

Perhaps then, yours is not without that idea. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Yet I ought not to be flattered by it neither ; for 
women, it is faid, fly from fmall dangers, and en- 
counter the greater more willingly. 

MISS MARTIN. 

Yes, Sir John, we are the reverfe of the men in 
this refpect, which accounts likewife for your de- 
taining me here. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Nay, in this you are miftaken : it is no mean 
danger that proves my boldnefs at this moment. 
(Placing himfelf between her and the door gayly.J' 



A COMEDY. 123 



MISS MARTIN. 

Your boldnefs indeed is obvious enough, what- 
ever I may think of your courage. — But I have no 
particular defire to pafs this way: I can find out 
my way to the breakfaft-room by another door if 
you have any fancy for {landing fentry at this 
poft. (Turning to go by another door.) 



sir john hazelwood (quitting the door J. 

And you will leave me thus fcornfully. There 
is an old proverb I could repeat about woman's 
fcorn. 

MISS martin. 
I know your old proverb perfectly well, Sir John; 
and I am obliged to you for mentioning it at pre- 
fent, fmce it fets me completely at liberty, without 
ill manners, to fay, I am heartily tired of this par- 
ley. (Exit with affecled carlejfnefs, 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Well, this is flrange enough ! fhe will charm, 
me, I believe, with every thing that is difagreeable 
to me : for I diflike a gay woman, I can't endure a 
talking one, and thefe kind of fnip-fnap anfwers I 
deteft. — But I have been too particular in my no- 
tions about thefe matters : I have always been too 
fevere upon the women : — I verily believe they are 
better kind of creatures than I took them for. 



524 THE COUNTRY INN: 

Softly, however ! I will obferve her well before I 
declare myfelf. (Exit. 



Enter Amaryllis, with a coat in his hand, and 
drejfed in his night-gown. 

Amaryllis (alone J. 
What a plague is the matter with the firing of 
my bell this morning that it won't ring ! I wifh my 
Dolly would come and brum this coat for me. 
(Lijlening.) I hear her voice coming up flairs ; 
ftie'll be here immediately. — This girl becomes 
every day more pleafing and more necefTary to 
me. Ever fince I entered this houfe fhe has 
aired my linen, fet my flippers by the fire in a 
morning (for, good foul ! fhe heard me complain 
that I am troubled with a chillnefs in my feet), and 
done all thofe little kindly offices about me with 
fuch a native grace as beggars all refinement. — But 
what, indeed, are the embellifhments of artful man* 
ners to the graces of fimple unadorned nature ? — 
She is at hand. — Dolly ! my fweet Dolly ! 

(Calling to her.) 

dolly (without.) 
Coming, fir. 

AMARYLLIS. 

There is fomething of natural harmony in the 
very tones of her voice. 



A COMEDY. 2> : ; 

doily ( 'without , in aJJmrp angry key). 
Get down to the kitchen, you vile abominable 
cur ! Do you think I have nothing to do but mop 
the flairs after your dirty feet ? Get down to the 
kitchen with you ! (The howling of a dog heard 
without.) Yes, yes, howl away there ! I'll break 
every bone in your fkin, if you come this way 
again, that I will. 

Enter Dolly. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Why Dolly, my good girl, this is rather an 
unpretty way of talking. 

DOLLY. 

'Tis but the dog, fir. Vile, nafty hound ! he is 
worfer than his mailer. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Than his mailer ? 

DOLLY. 

Yes, than his mailer, Mr. Worfhipton. His 
dog's tricks are like his own, for he don't care 
what trouble he gives to a poor fervant. 

AMARYLLIS. 

So you don't love Mr. Worfhipton, Dolly? 
Should you have treated a dog of mine fo, eh ? 
(pinching her cheek kindly.) You fmile at that 
queftion, you gipfy : 1 know you would not. 



226 THE COUNTRY INN: 



DOLLY. 

I fhould indeed have had fome more regard for 
the brute, fo as he had belonged to your honour. 

AMARYLLIS. 

I thank you, my fweet girl, but you ought to 
fpeak gently to every thing. — And don't call me 
u your honour." I don't like to hear my pretty 
Dolly call me fo. 

DOLLY. 

O daify } what fhall I call you then ? 

AMARYLLIS. 

Call me Sir, or Mr. Amaryllis, or when you 
would be very kind to me, my dear Mr. Amaryllis. 

DOLLY* 

My dear Mr. Amarals. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Amaryllis is my name, Dolly. 

DOLLY. 

Yes, yes ! I know your name is Amarals. 

AMARYLLIS. 

No, child, Amaryllis. — But you'll pronounce it 
better by and by. And if my Dolly will take this 
coat and brufti it for me, when flie brings it to my 

i 



A COMEDY. 22; 

chamber again, I have fomething to fay to her in 
private which will not, I hope, be difpleafing to 
her* (Exit, looking tenderly at her, 

dolly C alone J. 
What can he have to fay to me now ? Ods 
dickens ! I'll wager he means to buy me a new 
gown. — Faith ! he means fome other thing per- 
haps. Well, if he were not fo much taken up 
with his books, and his papers, and his poetry, and 
fuch train, I mould like mightily to keep a maid of 
my own, and be call'd Mrs. Amarals. — I'll bring 
it to this if I can. (Going out with the coat. J He 
mall brufh his own coat then, howfomever. (Exit. 



£ND OF THE THIRD ACT. 



Q2 



228 THE COUNTRY INN 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I. Moon-light: a field or J mall court behind 
the inn, and every thing covered with /now. 

Enter Fiddler, Piper, ^Hurdy-Gurdy-M^n, 
each with his injlrument. 

FIDDLER. 

Alow devilifh cold 'tis ! 'tis well we are fortified 
with road beef and brandy, friend : didn't I tell 
you we mould want it all ? (To Piper.) 

PIPER. 

Very true : but you would not keep a lady of 
family and condition waiting till we cramm'd our- 
felves, Maifler John. 

HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 

Dat would be impolite in verite. 

FIDDLER. 

Damn me ! if I would play with an empty flo- 
mach to the bell lady in Chriftendom. What the 
devil makes her fancy that our mufic will found 
better in this here cold field than within doors in 
fuch a night as this ? I likes to be fnug myfelf, 
and I never likes to put any one to hardfhip. 



A COMEDY. 229 



PIPER. 

Why thou art a good-humour'd, kindly-hearted 
fellow, John ; I mud fay that for thee. But this 
is the true way for all love mufic, di na ye ken ? 
Out among the high rocks, or under a caftle-wall, 
man ! — But now, as we are all to play thegether, as 
it were in a concert (taking out bis fnuff-box, and 
rapping on the lid 'with an air of importance ) , di na 
ye think, gentlemen, it will be expedient to enquire 
firft, whether we can play the fame tunes or not, 
as I fuppofe none of us trouble ourfelves with 
mufic-books, and fick like. 



FIDDLER. 

I can play a pretty many tunes, Piper, but none 
of them all goes fo well on my fiddle as Ally 
Croaker. 



PIPER. 

Ay, that is good enough in town to play to an 
orange-woman under a lamp-pod, or fick like ; but 
this is a lady of family, man, and fhe mud have 
Something above the vulgar. 



FIDDLER. 

Play any thing you pleafe, then : it will be all 
the fame thing in my day's work whether I play 
one thing or another. 



2 3 o THE COUNTRY INN: 



PIPER. 

Day's work, man ! you talk about playing pa 
your fiddle as a cooler would do about mending of 
fhoes. No, no! we'll do the thing decently and 
creditably. 
I 

HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 

Suppofe we do give her de little chanfon d'amour? 



PIPER. 

Song a moor ! what's that ? 

HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 

I do play it very pretty on my hurdy-gurdy. 

PIPER. 

Ay, you may play it well enough, perhaps, for 
your Italian foreigners, or fick like, that don't know 
any better ; but any body that has been in Lo- 
chabar, good troth i would count it no better than 
jargon, man. 

HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 

But I do fay when de peoples of my country 
hear your pipe, dey do fo. (Stopping his ears, and 
mimicking one who runs away.) And I do fay dat I 
play more better mufic dan you, one, two, ten, 
twenty times over. 



A COMEDY. 231 

PIPER. 

Lord help ye, man ! it's lang fin pride began : 
will ye compare yourfelf to the Laird of M c Rory's 
fiper. 

FIDDLER. 

A great affair to be fure of the Laird of Mac- 
Rory's piper. 

PIPER. 

You mun eat a bow o' meal before you be like 
him tho\ 

FIDDLER. 

Thank God ! I have more chriftian-like victuals 
to eat, 

PIPER. 

Better than you or your grandfather either, ha* 
been glad o' worfe fare* 

FIDDLER. 

Yes, that may be the cafe in your eountry like 
enough, where, unlefs it be a loufy taylor, or fick 
like (mimicking him), few of you tafte any thing 
that has ever had life in it. 

PIPER. 

Sir, an' it were not for refpecl to the lady yonder 
(pointing to the window where Hannah appears), 1 



232 THE COUNTRY INN: 

would run this dirk into that natty bulk of yours, 
and let out fome o' the plum-pudding you pre- 
tend to be fluffed with, you fvvine that you are ! ' 

FIDDLER. 

O never mind the lady, Matter M c Rory ; I'll 

box you for two -pence. (P'uiiing him/elfin a boxing 
pojlure.) 



PIPER. 

Done, fir, for half the money. (Putting himfelf 
in the fame pqfture.) 

HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 

Befe men very foolifh : my hurdy-gurdy and I 
be but ftrangers in dis country : we will keep out 
of de way. (Retiring to a corner of thejiage.) 

Enter Wqrshipton and Jenkins. 

worshipton. 
Hold, hold ! what is all this for ? I hired you 
to give us harmony and not difcord, and be damn'd 
to you ! 

TIDDLER. 

You mall have that too, an 5 pleafe your honour.. 

WORSHIPTON. 

But I want no more than I bargained for, fo 
keep this for fome other occafion, if you pleafe. 



A COMEDY. 233 

fiddler (giving Up). 
Well, it don't fignify, I can pick a quarrel with 
him another time. 

piper (to Fiddler). 

Since the gentleman defires it, fir, I fhall let you 

alone for this time ; but damn you, fir, if you fay 

a word againfi my country again, I'll make you a 

man of no country at all. (They take up their in- 

ftruments, and go to different fides oftheJlage y 

fill making figns of defiance to one another,) 

worshipton (going to the window). 
Are you there, my charming love ? 

HANNAH. 

Yes, I have been here fome time. 

worshipton. 
I could riot come fooner. — Remember your pro- 
mife ; and in the mean time what mufic fhall they 
play? 

HANNAH. 

Juft let them play a concert. 

worshipton. 
A concert. — Well, gentlemen, you^are defired 
tp^play a concert. 6 



S34 THE COUNTRY INN; 

FIDDLER. 

That is to fay we are all to play together. What 
mall we play ? (To Piper.) Shall we play the 
Lady's Fancy ? 

PIPER. 

A cuftock for the Lady's Fancy. 

FIDDLER. 

The Soldier's Delight then ? 

PIPER. 

A for the Soldier's Delight ! a tune for 



a two-penny alehoufe. 

HURDY-GURDY-MAN. 

Don't mind him (to Fiddler), he be wafhpifh : 
you and I will play Ma chere Amie. 

PIPER. 

Well, well ! play what you pleafe, both of you, 

but I'll play the battle of Killy Cranky, and hang 

me, if your "Ah Me" will be heard any more than 

the chirping of a cricket in the hearth. (They begin 

to play, and the Piper drowns them both with 

his noife.) 

worshipton (flopping his ears J. 
Give over ! give over ! blefs my foul ! the 
fqueaking of a hundred pigs and the fow-driver at 



A COMEDY. *# 

their heels is nothing to this. (Going to the window.) 
Well, my love, how did you like the concert ? 

hannah (above). 
Very well, I thank you, 

worshipton (afidej. 
A lady of precious tafte ! (afide.J But would it 
not be better to hear them one at a time ? Which 
of them fhall I defire to play firfl ? (Aloud.) 

hannah (above). 
Bid that fiddler there, without the breeches, 
play me a tune on his bagpipes, 

PIPER. 

I mud let you to wit, madam, that I am no 
fiddler, and the meanefl man of all the M c Rorys 
would fcorn to be a fiddler. My father before me 
was piper to the laird, and my grandfather was piper 
to the Highland Watch at the fiege of Quibec ; and 
if he had not piped long and well to them, madam, 
there wad ha' been lefs French blood fpilt that day, 
let me tell you that, madam. 

worshipton. 

My good Mr. M c Rory, me meant you no offence, 

I allure you fhe refpecls your grandfather very 

much. Do oblige us with a tune on your bagpipes. 

(Piper makes a profound bow, andfianding by 

the fde feme ', half concealed splays a Highland 

pee-bro.J 



^5 THE COUNTRY -INN: 

worshipton (to Piper). 
I thank you, fir ; your mufic is excellent : it is 
both martial and plaintive. — But where is our 
little warbler ? Ha ! here fhe comes. 

Enter Sally. 

Come, my good girl, can you fmg the fong I gave 

you ? 

SALLY. 

Yes, fir. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Let us have it then. 



SONG. 

Ah, Celia, beauteous, heavenly maid! 

In pity to thy fl>ephera" s heart, 
Tims by thy fatal charms betray 9 d, 

The gentle balm of hope impart* 

Ah ! give vie hope in accents fweet, 
Sweet as thy lute's melodious flrain ; 

I'll lay my laurels at thy feet, 

And blefs the hour that gave me pain. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Very well lung, indeed. (To Hannah.) Don't 
you think, my charming Hannah, we have had 
mufic enough ? 



A COMEDY. 2j7 

HANNAH* 

Juft as you pleafe : I don't care. 

WORSHIPTON. 

I'll fend them off then. (To Jenkins, who comes 

forward.) Take them all to the other fide of the 

houfe, and make them play under Mifs Martin's 

window. You underfland. (Afidt.) 

JENKINS. 

Yes, fir. (Exeunt Jenkins and mii/ic 9 and enter 
Will, who retires to a corner of thejlage* 

worshipton (to Hannah), 
How did you like my fong, Hanabella ? 

HANNAH. 

Very well : but la ! it an't the fong you pro* 
mifed to make upon me : it don't fay one word 
about either you or I. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Ay, but it does tho' ; for you are Celia, and I 
am the fhepherd, and that is the faihion of love- 
fongs. 

HANNAH. 

Well, that is fo droll ! 

WORSHIPTON. 

So it is. — And now, my deareft creature, fulfil 



2 3 3 THE COUNTRY INN: 

your promife, and come over the window to me ; 
the poftchaife is waiting for us. 

HANNAH. 

La ! is it the yellow chaife that flands commonly 
in the yard ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

I can't tell you what colour it is, but it carries 
us off to be married. Come over the window, 
my love. 

HANNAH. 

La ! I didn't promife to go over the window : 
Aunt fays they never do good who get over the 
window to be married : I only promifed to run off 
with you. 

WORSHIPTON. 

But that is juft the fame thing. Do come now ! 
there is no time to be loft. You have only to fet 
your foot upon that ftone which juts out from the 
wall, and you are in my arms in an inftant. 

HANNAH. 

No, no ! old aunt Gertrude went over the win* 
dow to be married, and fhe fell and broke her leg, 
and never was married at all. 

WORSHIPTON. 

But you can't break your leg here, the wall is fo 
l ow . — Gome, come, there is no time to lofe. 



A COMEDY. 239 

HANNAH. 

O no, no ! I know I fhall come to harm, 

WORSHIPTON. 

Do, my cleared Hanabella, there is not the leaft 
danger. (In a coaxing tone of voice. J 

HANNAH. 

O no, no ! aunt Gertrude broke her leg, and 
I'm fure I fhall break mine too. 

worshipton (lojing all patience). 
Damn your aunt Gertrude, and all the fools of 
the family ! I'll give you leave to cut my head off 
if you fall. 

HANNAH. 

1*11 go away, I won't flay here to be damned. 
(Whimperings and turning from the window J. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Forgive me, my love ; don't go away : I'll do. 
any thing to pleafe you. — What the devil fhall we 
do? 

will (coming forward J. 
Don't prefs the lady to get over the window, fir ; 
1*11 find a way of getting her out at the door, 
which I fhall explain to you afterwards, 



240 THE COUNTRY INN: 

WdRSHIPTON. 

But her chamber enters thro' the old lady's \ fo 
how can you get her out ? 

WILL. 

By unkennelling the old lady, to be fure ; Til do 
that fall enough. 

worshipton (to Hannah). 

Then wait in your chamber, my dearefl creature, 

till we come for you. (Afide as he goes off with 

Will.) What a devil of a fool it is ! who could have 

thought me would have been fo obilinate. (Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Afmall Hall, with the doors offeveral 
rooms opening into it* 

Enter Worshipton, and Will with a candle and 
burnt paper in his hand. 

will (thru/ling the burnt paper under one of the 
doors). 
Now, my good Lady Charity 1 Til be even with 
you for the half-crown you faved off me. — She'll 
fmell the burning foon enough, I warrant ye ; for 
your notable ladies, like her. poke their nofes into 
every corner, and get out of bed at every little 
noife, to fee that no rat be running off with one of 
their old fhoes. — Do you go, pleafe your honour, 



A COMEDY. 241 

and wait at that door there, which is the only one 
that opens to the ftaircafe, and I'll fend the young 
lady to you immediately. You told her our plan? 

WORSHIPTON. 

Yes, I returned to the window, and told her. 

wlll. 
I have procured a trufty lad to drive in my place, 
and you'll find every thing as you ordered it. 

WORSHIPTON. 

I thank you, my good fellow : I'll make your 
fortune for this. 

WILL. 

I know your honour is a noble-minded gentle- 
man. {Exit tVorfhipton. 

will ( alone 1 UJlening at the door J. 
Yes, yes, me fmells it now : I hear her ftirring. 
(Bawling very loud. J Fire ! fire ! fire ! The houfe 
is on fire ! Fire ! fire ! fire ! 

Enter Lady Goodbody in her night-clothes , fol- 
lowed by Hannah. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Mercy on us! how ftrong I fmell it here! 
Where are all the fervants ? Call every body up. 
( Exit Hannah by the Jlaircafe door.) Is that the 
way out ? Stay, Hannah, and take me with you. 

R 



242 THE COUNTRY INN. 

WILL. 

Your Ladyfhip had better take hold of my arm> 
and I'll take you fafe out. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Do take me out ! do take me out ! Fire ! fire I 
fire ! is there nobody coming to us ? ( Takes hold of 
Will r j arm, who flaggers along with her firft to one 
fide of the ftage, and then to the other,) Why, what 
are you about, fellow? I'll get better along by 
myfelf. 

will. 
Never fear ! never fear I I'll warrant I'll take 
care of your Ladyfhip. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Why don't you go farter then ? Let go my 
arm, I fay. Is the fellow mad or drunk I 

WILL. 

I'll take care of your Ladyfhip. Old ladies are 
often a Humbling : take good care of your feet, 
madam. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Look to your own feet, fool ! and let me alone. 
The man's diffracted! let go my arm, I fay. (She 
Jlruggles to get free: he keeps fafi hold of her, and 
hobbles zig-zag over thejtage^fhe all the while calling 



A COMEDY. 243 

mt fire, till they get to the Jlaircafe door, where he 
falls-down with his body right acrofs the door to pre- 
vent its opening? as if he were in a fit.) Heaven pre- 
ferve us ! the man's in a fit, and ^he door won't 
open. Who's there ? Fire ! fire ! fire ! 

Enter Landlady and Dolly. 

LANDLADY. 

Fire in my houfe, mercy on us ! how ftrong it 
fmells here. O lud ! lud ! I'm a ruin'd woman ! 
Where can it have broke out ? O lud ! lud ! 

DOLLY. 

Lack-a-daify ! I fmell it over head. I'll pawn 
my life it is in the north garret, where my new 
gown lies. O dear ! O dear ! 

landlady (running dijlracledly about J. 
Fire ! fire ! Water ! water ! will nobody am ft 
a poor ruined woman ? Oh, all my good furniture! 
Oh, my new dimity bed ! 

.Enter Sir JohnnHazelwood in his night-gown. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Confound your new dimity bed ! Where is Mifs 
Martin? 



lady goodbody. 
O my child ! my child ! where is my child ? 
R2 



244 THE COUNTRY INN: 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

I'll go for her. — But here fhe comes: all's 

well now; let it burn as it will. (Enter Mifs 

Martin, and Sir John, runs eagerly up to her, but 

flops Jhort fuddenly.) My old fick fellow is in bed, 

and can't ftir a limb to fave himfelf ; I muft carry 

him out in my arms. (Going haflily out, but is 

flopped by Amaryllis, who enters grotefquely 

drejfed in his nightcap.) 

AMARYLLIS. 

Where are you going ? where has it broke out ? 

LANDLADY. 

O hid, fir ! it is broke out up flairs, and all my 
goods will be burnt. Who will aflifl a poor ruin'd 
woman ? 

AMARYLLIS. 

There is no fire up flairs, I afTure you, but I 
fmell it here. 

LANDLADY. 

Then it is down flairs, and we fhall all be burnt 
before we can get out. (They all crowd about the 
flaircafe door.) Raife that great fellow there. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

He's in a flrong hyflerick fit. 



A COMEDY. 245 

DOLLY. 

Give him a kick o' the guts, and that will cure 
his extericks. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

A hafty remedy, gentle maiden. 

(Sir John and Amaryllis lift Will neck and 
heels from the door* J 

Enter David from the flair cafe. 

DAVID. 

Who (lopped the door there? what's all this 
buftle for ? 

LANDLADY. 

O, David, David ! isn't there fire below flairs, 
David? 

DAVID. 

Yes, as much as will roaft an egg, if you blow 
it well. 

LANDLADY. 

Nay, but I'm fure the houfe is on fire, for I 
dreamt this very night that Pompey's whelp was 
gnawing a hole in my apron, and that bodes me no 
good. I'll go and look all over the houfe. Come, 
Doll. (Exeunt Landlady and Dolly. 

sir john hazelwood ( to Amaryllis). 
We had better fearch too. 

(Exeunt Sir John and Amaryllis* 

R3 






i\6 THE COUNTRY INN: 

DAVID. 

What's the matter with Will ? 

LADY GOODBODY. 

He's in a ftrong fit. 

DAVID. 

I never knew him in one before : I'm afraid he's 
dead, poor fellow ! What will become of old 
Grizel his mother now ? He gave the bed half of 
his earnings to keep her out of the workhoufe. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Did he indeed ! good young man ! Run and get 
afliftance for him. But, happen what will, old 
Grizel fhan't go to the workhoufe, for I'll take 
care of her myfelf. Hafte, good David ! run for 
the apothecary dire&ly. (Exit David.) Go, Mary, 
fetch me fome drops from my room. ( Exit Mifs 
Martin.) Poor young man ! 

will (getting up, and falling on his knees to Lady 
Goodbody). 
O, my good blefied lady ! I'm a Jew, and a 
Turk, and a Judas Ifcariot. I have played the 
knave with you all this while out of fpite. If I had 
not been a bead I might have known that you were 
a main good, charitable lady. — But I'll fetch her 
back again: I'll run to the world's end to ferve 
you. 



> 



A COMEDY. 247 

LADY GOODBODY. 

You are raving, I fear : who will you fetch 
back ? 

WILL. 

The great heirefs, your niece, madam, who is 
run off to marry Mr. Worihipton, and all by my 
curfed contrivance too. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

The great heirefs, my niece ! 

WILL. 

Yes, my lady ; your niece, Mifs Clodpate : but 
I'll fetch her back again, . tho' every bone in my 
(kin fhould be broken. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

This is ftrange, indeed ! ( Confiderlng a while.) 
No, no, young man, don't go after her : fhe is of 
age, and may do as fhe pleafes. 

WILL. 

Gds my life, you are the bed good lady alive ! 
I'll run and tell my old mother what a lady you 
are. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Nay, I'll go and fee her myfelf ; I may be able 
to make her fituation more comfortable, perhaps. 

R 4 



248 THE COUNTRY INN: 

will (burfting into tears). 
Thank you, madam! Heaven knows I thank 
you ! but as long as I have health and thefe two 
hands, I'll take care of her who took care of me 
before I could take care of myfelf. 

LADY G/OODBODY. 

You are a good young man, I fee, and I have a 
great mind to take care of you both. She has 
brought you foberly up, I hope, and taught you to 
read your Bible. 

WILL. 

Lord, madam ! old Grizel can't read a word 
herfelf, but many a time (lie deflres me to be good 
— and fo I will : hang me if I don't read the Bible 
from beginning to end, hard names and alto- 
gether ! 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Come into the parlour with me : you mull tell 
me more of this flory of Mr. Worfhipton and my 
niece. 

Re-enter Miss Martin with the drops. 

MISS MARTIN. 

1 fought them every where, and thought I fhould 
never 7 



A COMEDY. 249 

LADY GOODBODY. 

We don't want them now ; carry them back 
again. (Exeunt Lady Goodbody and Will by one 
fide, and Mifs Martin by the other. 

SCENE III. The Inn Tar J, with the Jlable-door in 
fronts at which Will appears, as if ready tofaddle 
a horfe. 

Enter Amaryllis. 

AMARYLLIS. 

I hear, Will, you are going by Lady Goodbody's 
orders to defire the young couple to return to her 
from church : I mould be much obliged to you if 
you would take Dorothea behind you, for fhe has 
got fome bufinefs in the village this morning, and 
there is no conveyance for her unlefs you take her 
up. 

WILL. 

What, our Doll do you mean ? 

AMARYLLIS. 

Yes, Will. 

WILL. 

Hang her! let her walk: Blackberry won't 
carry double. 

AMARYLLIS. 

1 am fure he will, if you try him. 



sjo THE COUNTRY INN: 

WILL. 

Why fhould I hobble all the way with a fat 
wench behind me? She's able enough to walk. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Don't be fo ill-natured now : fhe would not be 
fp to you if fhe could ferye you. 

WILL. 

No, to be fure : as far as a kick o' the guts goes 
to cure one of the extericks, kindly chriftian! {he 
will be ready enough with her fervice. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Come, come ! don't be fo crufty now. Here is 
money for you : Blackberry mud carry double. 

(Giving him money. J 

WILL. 

Ay, to be fure, if I coax him well, I don't know 
but he may : for tho' he is but a brute he has as 
many odd humours about him as any reafonable 
creature. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Do, my good fellow, and put a foft pillion under 
her, for the road is very rough. 

WILL. 

Nay, hang me if I do that ! fhe an't fo delicate, 
good footh ! — Let her be ready to fet off in ten 



A COMEDY. 2^1 

minutes, if (he means to come, for I won't wait an 
inftant for the firft madam in England. A foft pil- 
lion for her truly ! (Grumbling as he goes into ih& 
ftable.) 

Amaryllis (alone. J 
He has been my rival, I fee, by his fpite. But 
no wonder! my charming girl mud have many 
admirers. (Exit. 



£ND OF THE FOURTH ACT. 



252 THE COUNTRY INN: 



ACT V. 

SCENE I. The Kitchen. Landlady discovered 
going up and down, bufy with her family affairs, 
and David with two countrymen, drinking a pot of 
beer together. 

first man (drinking). 
My farvice to you, David. 

David (drinking J. 
And here's to your very good health, Mafler 
Simons. But as I was a faying, if I were 'Squire 
Haretop, d'ye fee, I would look after mine own 
affairs, and not let myfelf be eaten up by a parcel 
of greedy fpendthrifts and wandering newfmongers. 
I would look after mine own affairs, d'ye fee, that 
is what I would. 

SECOND MAN. 

To be fure, David, it would be all the better for 
him, if fo be that he were in the humour to think 
fo. 

DAVID. 

Ay, to be fure it would, Mafler Gubbins. For 
this now is what I have always faid, and advifed, 
and commented, and expounded to every body, 
that a man who don't look after his own affairs, 



A COMpY. 253 

is, at the bed, but a filly colt that ftrews about his 
own fodder. 



LANDLADY. 

Lord help ye, David ! would any one think to 
hear you talk, now, that you had been once the 
matter of this inn, and all by neglecting of your 
own concerns are come to be the fervant at laft. 



david (with great contempt J* 
Does the filly woman think, becaufe I did not 
mind every gill of gin, and pint of twopenny fold 
in the houfe, that I could not have managed my 
own concerns in a higher line ? If my parents 
had done by me as they ought to have done, 
Matter Simons, and had let me follow out my 
learning, as I was inclined to do, there is no know- 
ing what I might have been. Ods life ! I might 
have been a clerk to the king, or mayhap an arch- 
bifhop by this time. 

( A knocking at the door, Landlady opens it> and 
enter two Farmers. J 



FIRST FARMER. 

Is Dolly within? 



LANDLADY. 

No, fhe is gone a little way a-field this morning 
about fome errands of her own. 



254 THE COUNTRY INN; 

SECOND FARMER. 

That is a pity now, for we bring her fuch rare 
news. 

LANDLADY. 

i 

Lack-a-daify ! what can that be ? 

SECOND FARMER. 

Her uncle, the grazier, is dead at lad ; and tho ? 
he would never allow her a penny in his lifetime, 
as you well know, he has died without a will, and 
every thing that he has comes to Dolly. 

FIRST FARMER. 

Ay, by my faith ! as good ten thoufand pounds, 
when houfe and flock, and all is difpofed of, as any 
body would wifh to have the handling of. 

LANDLADY. 

Ten thoufand pounds I how fome people are 
born to be lucky ! A poor woman like me may 
labour all her life long, and never make the twen- 
tieth part of it. 

Enter Sally. 
Come hither, Sally : did Doll tell you where fhe 
was going this morning ? 

SALLY. 

No, but I can guefs well enough \ for fhe is all 



A COMEDY. *$s 

drefs'd in white, and I know it is to Middleton 
church to be married to that there gentleman that 
writes all the fongs and the metre. 



LANDLADY. 

'Tis lucky it's no worfe. Step into the parlour, 
firs, and I'll come to you prefently. (Exeunt Farmers 
and Sally different ways. J What luck fome people 
have ! married to a gentleman too ! fortune makes 
a lady of her at once. 



DAVID. 

By my faith ! and fortune has been in great want 
of fluff for that purpofe when fhe could light upon 
nothing better than Doll. They lack'd of fifh to 
make a difh that filled their pan with tadpoles. 



LANDLADY. 

Don't be fo fpiteful, now, David ; fome folks 
muft be low in this world, and others mufl be high. 

DAVID. 

Yes, truly, fhe'll be high enough. Give fome 
folks an inch and they'll take an eU; let fortune 
make her a lady, and fhe'll reckon herfelf a coun- 
ters, I warrant ye. — Lord help us! I think I fee her 
now, in all her fluff filks and her great bobbing top- 
knots, holding up her head as grand and as grave 
as a cat looking out of a window.— Fob ! it were 
enough to make a body fick. 



i$6 THE COUNTRY INN: 

LANDLADY. 

Fy, David ! you are as fpiteful now as if fome- 
body were taking fomething out of your pocket : 
HI afTure you (he has a more genteeler behaviour 
than moft young women in the parifh : I have 
given her fome Ieflbns myfelf. 

DAVID. 

Ay, by my faith ! and her gentility fmacks devil- 
ifhly of the place that fhe got it from. 

Re-enter Sally in great hafte. 

SALLY. 

Lack-a-daify ! I went to the (table juft now to 
tell Will about Dolly's great fortune ; and he is 
gone, and Blackberry is gone, and the chaife and 
horfes are gone. 

LANDLADY. 

There is witchcraft about this houfe ! — I'll pawn 
my life fome of the gentlefolks are miffing too ; let 
us go and fee. (Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Enter Lady Goodbody, Miss 
Martin, and Sir John Hazelwood. 

sir john hazelwood (/peaking as he enters,) 
I am heartily forry for it : my nephew alone is 
to blame, and he will be feverely punifhed for his 



A COMEDY. 257 

fault. — You expeft them to return when the cere- 
mony is over : we (hall fee them foon then. 



LADY GOODBODY. 

I dare fay we fhall : and in the mean time let us 
drop this difagreeable fubject. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Forgive me, Lady Goodbody, for appearing to 
regret fo much the honour of connecting my fa- 
mily with yours. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Indeed, Sir John, I could have wifhed to have re- 
ceived that honour from another party. Your 
nephew, however, fets you a good example in mar- 
rying, tho* I'm afraid it will be loft upon you. 

miss martin (fretfully). 
Your Ladyihip has teafed Sir John fo often upon 
this fubjecl, that, if he has any fpirit at all, he will 
certainly remain a bachelor from mere contradic- 
tion. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Yes, Mifs Martin, that is a motive urged with 
authority by thofe who recommend it from expe- 
rience. Nay fo greatly, it is faid, do young ladies 
delight in it, that every thing they do ought to be 
explained by the rule of oppofition. When they 

S 



a$8 THE COUNTRY INN? 

frown upon us it is a fmile of invitation ; when 
they avoid us it is a fignal to ftand upon the watch 
for a tete-a-tete ; (approaching her with an arch 
fmile as Jhe draws her/elf up with an affecled indif- 
ference.) but when they tofs back their heads at 
our approach, in all the ftudied carelefihefs of con- 
tempt, we may confider ourfelves as at the very 
pinnacle of favour. Is it allowable, madam, to 
take this rule for my guide ? 



MISS MARTIN. 

By all means, Sir John ; felf-love will naturally 
teach you to judge by that rule which proves moft 
for your own advantage. 1 hope, however, you 
will allow thofe unlucky men upon whom we bellow 
our fmiles, to find out another for themfelves. 

lady goodbody (to Mifs Martin, difpleafed). , 
You have got a fharp difagreeable way of talking 
of late, which is not at all becoming, child : you 
ufed to fmile and look good-humoured to every 
body. 

MISS MARTIN. 

And fo I may again, madam, when I am with the 
poor filly folks who don't know how humiliating it 
is for them to be fo treated : I hope I fhall always 
be civil enough to fpare Sir John Hazelwocd that 
mortification. (Making him an affecled and ironical 
curtefy.J 



A COMEDY. 259 



lady goodbody (peevijhly). 
Let us have no more of this ! — Sir John, I fliall 
now give up teafing you about matrimony. I fee 
you are incorrigible. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Then you fee further than I do, madam, for I 
rather think it poffible I may be perfuaded to enter 
into it at laft. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

I'm fure I mod earneftly wifh it for your own 
fake ; and fo confident am I of your making an 
excellent hufband, that I would even venture to 
recommend you to the dearefl relation I have. 

miss martin (ajide, breaking away from themfud- 
denly, and hurrying to the other end of the room. J 
At it again ! I can bear this no longer. 

sir john hazelwood (to Lady Goodbody.) 

You fee, madam, this converfation is interefting 
only to you and me : had I not then better make 
love to your ladyfhip ? 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Why there was a time, Sir John, when I was not 
without admirers. 

S2 



z6o THE COUNTRY INN: 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Kow much I fhould have liked — but it would 
have been a dangerous gratification — to have feen 
thefe attractions in their full flrength which are 
flill fo powerful in their decline. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

There is flill a good liken efs of me, as I was in 
thofe days, which Mary now wears upon her arm : 
whilft I go to give fome orders to my woman, make 
her pull off her glove and fhew it to you. You'll 
have the fight of a very pretty hand and arm by 
the bye; our family is remarkable for pretty hands. 

(Exit. 

sir john hazelwood (going up to Mifs Martin). 
May I prefume, madam, thus authorized, to beg 
you will have the condefcenfion to gratify me. 

MISS MARTIN. 

I can't poflibly : It is not on my arm at prefent. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Nay, but I fee the mark of it through your glove: 
may I prefume to aflifl you in pulling it off? (Offer- 
ing to take hold of her glove ', wbilft Jbe puts 
away his hand with great difpleafure.) 

MISS MARTIN. 

You prefume indeed: I can't fuffer it to be 
pulled off. 7 



A COMEDY. 261 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Then I muft indeed be prefumptuous, for pofi- 
tively I will fee it. (Taking hold of her hand, whilft 
fhe,firuggling to pull it away from him without effect, 
at laft, in her diftrefs, gives him with the other hand 
a good box on the ear, and then, bur/ling into tears, 
throws herf elf into the next chair, and covers her face 
with both her hands.) My dear Mifs Martin for- 
give me ! I fear I have behaved ungenerouily to 
you : but believe me, carelefs as I may have ap- 
peared, I have beheld you with the moft paflion- 
ate admiration. (Kneeling at her feet.) 

miss martin ( 'turning from him difdainfully). 

Get up, Sir John, and find out fome amufement 

more becoming your underftanding and your years. 

(Walks to the bottom of the ft age with affumed 

dignity, whilft Sir John fits down much agL 

tated on a chair on the front: fhe, turning 

round, perceives his agitation, and forgetting 

her difpleafure, runs up to him eagerly.) 

miss martin. 
Good heaven! is it poflible that you are thus 
affe&ed. What is it that difturbs you fo much? 



SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

A very foolifh diftrefs, madam, but it wil! not 
long difturb me. 

S3 



262 THE COUNTRY INN: 

MISS MARTIN. 

I hope it will not. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Nay, it mall not, madam. — Firft when I beheld 
you, I was weak enough to think that I difcovered 
in an aflemblage of features by no means (pardon 
me) particularly handfome, as many worthy and 
agreeable qualities as would have been unpardon- 
able in the mod ardent phyfiognomift. I faw thro' 
the weak defigns of your aunt, and applauded your 
delicacy and fpirit. I will confefs, that pairing by 
the door of your apartment the other night, as it 
flood open, I heard you mention me to your coufm 
in a way that completely enfnared me. I was fool- 
iih enough to believe I had at laft found a woman 
in whofe keeping I might entruft my happinefs. 
But it was a weaknefs in me : I fee my folly now ; 
and this is the laft time I (hall be the fport of vain 
capricious woman. 

MISS MARTIN. 

Is it poffible! — Oh, we have both been deceived! 
I have been deceived by fomething very far dif- 
ferent from vanity — my wounded pride (till whif- 
pering to me that I was the object of your ridicule: 
and you have been deceived by a phyfiognomy 
that has indeed told you untruly when it ventured 
to promife any thing more from me than the ordi- 
nary good qualities and difpofition of my fex. — - 

5 



A C O M E D Y. 263 

We have both been deceived ; but let us part good 
friends : and when I am at any time inclined to be 
out of humour with myfelf, the recollection that I 
have been, even for a few deceitful moments, the 
object of your partiality, will be foothing to me. 



sir john hazel wood ( 'catching hold of her as Jhe 
goes away J, 
No, madam, we mud not part. f Looking fted- 
faftly and ferioufty in her face.) Can you, Mifs 
Martin, for once lay afide the filly forms of woman. 
fhip, and anfwer me a plain queftion upon which 
the happinefs of my life depends ? Does your 
heart indeed bear me that true regard which would 
make you become the willing partner of my way 
thro' life, tho' I promife not that it fhall be a 
flowery path, for my temper and habits are par- 
ticular. 

MISS MARTIN. 

Indeed, Sir John, you addrefs me in fo flrange 
a way, that I don't know what I ought to fay. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD, 

Fye upon it ! I expected a fimpie, I had almoll 
faid a manly anfwer, from you now. (Panfes, ex- 
pecling an anfwer from her, whilft fhe remains filent 
and embarraffed.J No, I fee it is impoflible : the 
woman works within you ftill, and will not fufFer 
you to be honeft. Well, I'll try another method 

S4 



264 THE COUNTRY INN: 

with you. (Taking her hand and grafting it firmly.) 
If you do not withdraw from me this precious 
hand, I mail fuppofe you return me the anfwer I 
defire, and retain it as my own for ever. 

MISS MARTIN. 

Why, you have hurt it fo much in that foolifh 
flruggle, that you have not left it power to with- 
draw itfelf. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Now, fye upon thee again ! this is a filly and 
affe&ed anfwer. But let it pafs : I find notwith- 
ftanding all my particular notions upon thefe mat- 
ters, I muft e'en take thee as thou art with all thy 
faults. (Kijfing her hand devoutly.) 

MISS MARTIN. 

I think I hear Worfhipton's voice. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Ah, my poor miferable bridegroom of a nephew! 
I muft be angry with him now, and I know not at 
prefent how to be angry. 

Enter Worshipton and Hannah. 

WORSHIPTON. 

My dear uncle, I crave your blefling. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

I think, fir, it would become you better, in the 
firft place, to crave my pardon. 



\ 



A COMEDY. 265 

WORSHIPTON. 

The world makes great allowance, my good fir, 
for young men of fafhion in my fituation ; know- 
ing us to be of a free, carelefs, and liberal difpo- 
fition, it calls us not ftri&ly to account in matters 
of elopement. 



SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

A liberal difpofition ! No, fir ; more felfifh than 
the mifer who hides his hoarded gold in the earth. 
I wifh you had made what is really right, and not 
what the world thinks allowable, the rule of your 
conduct. 



WORSHIPTON. 

I (han't argue with you about conduct, Sir John ; 
it is a devilifh awkward word in a young fellow's 
mouth : but if you will do me the honour of vifit- 
ing me in town next winter, I fhall introduce you 
to fuch fociety and amufements as country gentle- 
men have not always the opportunity of knowing. 
You will, I doubt not, have more deference for the 
world when you are better acquainted with it. 



SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

You are infinitely obliging, my mofl liberal fir. — 
And fo this is all the apology you mean to offer for 
deceiving a young girl, and making her the vi&im 
of your frivolous and fantaftical wants ? 






Z<$ THE COUNTRY INN: 

WORSHIPTON. 

No, no 1 I do mean to make an apology to the 
old lady. — Ha ! ha ! ha ! tho' I can't help laugh- 
ing when I think how I have cheated that won- 
derful piece of goodnefs and circumfpection. I 
muft coax her a little to bring round the old fellow, 
my father-in-law, for I muff have a brace of thou- 
fands to begin with immediately. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Yes, you are perfectly right to make as much of 
{lim as you can. (Sir John leans thoughtfully 

againft the Jidefcene, and Worfhiptony?rtf/r 
conceitedly up and down, ivhil/l Mifs Martin 
and Hannah come forward from the bottom of 
theflage, engaged in converfation.J 

hannah ('in a bufy halfwhifper). 
So you fee, My dear Mary, you muft juft tell 
my aunt that he ran aw r ay with me, and I could not 
help it. For, O la ! he is fo in love with me you 
can't think ! And do you know we were married 
by fuch a queer-looking man : he had fifteen holes 
in his calfock, for I counted them all over the time 
of the fervice. And do you know, when we came 
to the church dopr, Mr. Worfhipton had never 
a ring to put upon my finger. And do you know 
he borrowed an old ugly filver one of a woman 
who fold ballads by the gate, and gave her half-a- 
guinea for it, tho' it is not worth a fixpence. J3ut 



A COMEDY. 267 

I'm juft as good a married woman, you know, for 
all that, as if it had been gold. (Holding up her 
finger with the ring upon it. J An't I ? 

MISS MARTIN. 

I believe it will make no great difference, 

HANNAH. 

I thought fo. — Now do fpeak to my aunt for me, 

MISS MARTIN. 

I certainly will, my dear Hannah, tho* you have 
played fo fly with us. 

HANNAH. 

But la ! don't tell her about the half guinea for 
the ring, for that would make her angrier than 
all the reft of it. — O lud ! here fhe comes : (land 
before me a little bit. (Shrinking behind Mifs 

Martin's back.) 

Enter Lady Goodbody, 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Well, Mr. Worfhipton, what have you done 
with my niece ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

There (he is, madam. (Hannah comes from be- 
hind backs, and makes Lady Goodbody an awkward 
frightened curtefy.) We are both come to beg your 



268 THE COUNTRY INN: 

forgivenefs, and I hope fhe will not fuffer in your 
ladyfhip's good opinion for the honour fhe has con- 
ferred upon your humble fervant. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

He muft be a very humble fervant indeed who 
derives any honour from her. 

WORSHIPTON. 

We hoped from the meflage you were fo obliging 
as to fend us, that we mould not find you very 
fevere. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

I think, however, I may be allowed to exprefs 
fome difpleafure at not being confulted in a matter 
fo interefting to my family, without being con- 
fidered as very fevere. 

WORSHIPTON (afide to Sir John.) 
I only wonder fhe is not more angry with me. 
(Aloud to Lady Goodbody.) I was afraid, ma- 
dam, of finding you unfavourable to my wifhes, 
and durft not rifk my happinefs. But I hope you 
have no doubt of the honour of my intentions. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Certainly ; I cannot doubt of their being very 
honourable, and very difinterefted alfo. — I have 
known men mean enough and felfifh enough to 
poffefs themfelves by fecret elopements of the for- 



A COMEDY. 269 

tunes of unwary girls, whilft they have had nothing 
to give in return but indifference or contempt. 
Nay, I have heard of men fo bafe as to take ad- 
vantage of the weaknefs of a poor girl's intelle&s to 
accomplifh the ungenerous purpofe. But it is im- 
poflible to afcribe any but difinterefled motives to 
you, Mr. Worfhipton, as Mifs Clodpate has but a 
very fmall fortune. 

worshipton (ftarting.) 
What do you mean, madam ? the only child of 
your brother, Sir Rowland : you call'd her fo 
yourfelf. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

I told you fhe was the only child of my brother 
by his wife Sophia Elmot ; but difagreeable cir- 
cumftances fometimes take place in the bed fami- 
lies, which it goes againft one's feelings to repeat ; 
and there was no neceffity for my telling you, in 
indifferent converfation, that he has married his 
own cook maid a year and a half ago, by whom he 
has two (lout healthy boys. 

( Worfhipton Jiands like one petrified for fome 
ti??ie, but perceiving a /mile upon Mifs Martin'/ 
face> takes courage.) 



WORSKIPTON. 

Come, come ! this joke won't pafs upon me: I'm 
not fo eafily played upon. 



2io THE COUNTRY INN 



SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

It is a joke I'm afraid that will not make you 
merry, Worfhipton. 

WORSHIPTON. 

I'll believe nobody but Hannah herfelf, for fhe 
can't be in the plot, and fhe is too fimple to deceive 
me. (To Hannah.) Pray, my good girl, how 
many brothers have you got ? 

HANNAH. 

La ! only two ; and one of them is called Row- 
land after my father, you know, and one of them 
little Johnny. 

WORSHIPTON. 

O, hang little Johnny, and the whole fools of 
the race ! I am ruined beyond redemption. 

(Pacing up and down, and tojfing about his arms 
i/i defpair.J 

hannah (going up to him.) 
La ! Mr. Worfhipton, what is the matter ? 

miss martin (pulling her back. J 
Don't fpeak to him now. 

LADY GOODBODY (going Up to btm Jbotbingt 

Don't be fo much overcome, Mr. Worfhipton ; 
things are not fo very defperate. Hannah will have 



A COMEDY. 271 

five thoufand pounds at her father's death : he al- 
lows her the interefl of it in the meantime, and I 
fhall add two hundred a year to it. This, joined 
to your pay may, I think, with prudence and eco- 
nomy, enable you to live together in a very fnug 
comfortable way. 

WORSHIPTON. 

Damn your fnug comfortable ways of living! my 
foul abhors the idea of it. I'll pack up all I have 
in a napfack firfi, and join the wild Indians in 
America. — I wlfh I had been in the bottomlefs 
ocean ere I had come to this accurfed place. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Have a little patience, Worfhipton, and hear my 
plan for you. Fll pay your debts ; you fhall have 
the fame income you had before, with more pru- 
dence perhaps to manage it well 4 ; and your wife 
fhall live with her friends in the country. 

HANNAH. 

No, but I'll live with mine own hufband, for he 
knows well enough he is mine own hufband. 

(Taking hold of Worfhipton, whilfi he /hakes 
her off in difgujl.) 



LADY GOODBODY. 

How can you ufe your wife fo, Mr, Worfhipton! 



272 THE COUNTRY INN- 

. 
hannah (whimpering.) 
Oh ! he don't love me ! Oh dear me ! he don't 
love me a bit ! 

WORSHIPTON* 

What is the creature whimpering for? I fhall 
run diftracted ! 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

For God fake be more calm ! If you'll promife 
to live prudently in town, we fhall manage your 
lady in the country for you. But remember, 
Edward, the firft time I hear of your old habits 
returning upon you, fhe fhall be fent to London to 
pay you a vifit. 

. WORSHIPTON. 

dog that I am ! and fo this is all that I have 

made of my plots and my Idiot and fool that 

I am ! 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Confider of it, Worfhipton, and confider of it 
well. 

WORSHIPTON. 

1 am diftradted, and can confider of nothing. 

Enter Amaryllis, followed by Dolly and Land- 
lady. 

amaryllis. 
I am come to pay my compliments to you, Wor- 



A COMEDY. 273 

fhipton, with all poflible good will ; I wilh you 
and your fair bride joy, moft cordially. 



WORSHIPTON. 

Nay, I wifh you joy, Amaryllis. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Ha ! w'ho has been fo officious as to tell you of 
my marriage already ? 

WORSHIPTON. 

Married !■— No, faith \ I gave you joy becaufe I 
thought you a bachelor ftill. Married ! what a 
dog you have made of yourfelf! — But no; your 
refined, your angelic Delia has favoured your wiihes 
at laft, and with fuch a woman, you may indeed 
be a married man without being miferable. 

landlady (to Worfhipton). 
What did you fay about Delia, fir ? he is mar- 
ried to our Doll. 

Amaryllis (fretfully to Landlady). 
Who defired you to follow me here, ma'am ? 

LANDLADY. 

It was your own wedded wife, fir, that defired me 
to come ; and fmce you have chofen to marry the 
maid, I fee no reafon you have for to turn up your 
nofe at the miflrefs. And you need not go for to 

T 



*74 THE COUNTRY INN: 

be afhamed of her neither : fhe is as clever a girl as 
ever whirled a mop, and as honed a girl too; and 
that is more than can be faid for many a one that 
carries her head higher* 



worshipton (burfting into a laugh). 
Heaven and earth, Amaryllis ! are you married 
to Mrs. Dolly ? 



AMARYLLIS. 

Dorothea is a very good girl, Mr. Worfhipton. 



WORSHIPTON. 

Yes, yes ! I fee 'tis even fo. Ha! ha! ha! (laugh- 
ing violently for a long time, till he is obliged to hold 
both his fides.) This is excellent ! this is admirable! 
I thank thee Amaryllis ! thou haft been playing the 
fool as well as myielf. Give me thy hand, man. — 
Ha! ha! ha! 



sir john hazelwood (flapping forward, after 
having whifpered fame time behind backs with the 
Landlady). 

No, good nephew, moderate your laughter a 
little : Amaryllis has been playing the fool in a very 
different way from you ; for he has married his 
bride without expecting one farthing with her, and 
learns on returning from church, as our good land- 
lady has been informing me, that an uncle of hers 



A COMEDY: 2 7 j 

Is jufl dead, who has left her a very handfome for- 
tune. 

(Worfhiptori, whofe mirth Jiops in a moment, 
endeavours to refume the laugh again, but 
finding it wont do, retires in eonfufiM to the 
bottom of the jlage.) 

sir John hazel wood ( to Amaryllis and Dolly); 
Much happinefs may you both have in your good 
fortune ! With the woman of your choice and a 
competency, Amaryllis* you will be in the mod 
favourable (late of all others for courting the mufes. 

AMARYLLIS. 

Yes, Sir John ; with my own flender patrimony, 
and the fortune my wife brings to me, I hope to 
make my little cot no unfavoured haunt of the fafr 
fitters. I am not the firft poet who has been caught 
by the artlefs charms of a village maid ; and my 
wife will have as much beauty in my eyes, drefs'd 
in her ruflet gown, as the - " ' - ■ 

DOLLY. 

But I won't wear a ruflet gown tho' : I have 
money of my own, and Fll buy me filk ones. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Well faid, Mrs. Amaryllis ! Gentle poet, your 
village maid is a woman of fpirit. 

AMARYLLIS. 

. She is untaught, to be fure, and will fometimes 
fpeak unwittingly. 



2j6 THE COUNTRY INN: 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Never mind that, my good fir ; we fhall have 
her taught. You fhall make my houfe your home 
till your cot is ready for you, where I foon hope to 
have a lady who will take fome pains to form your 
charming Dorothea for her prefent fituation. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

So you are to have a lady then ? If you had 
told me fo before, I might have fpared all my ar- 
guments upon this fubject. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Indeed, madam, you might have fpared them, 
tho* they were very good ones, I confefs : the fight 
t>f this lady ( taking Mifs Martini hand) made 
every other argument unnecefTary. I hope you 
will give me your blefling with her. I want but 
this, and will not enquire of you how many bro- 
thers me has. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

So my Mary has caught you after all. Thank 
God for it ! She is good enough for any man, and 
I would rather give her to you than to any other 
man in the world. As for her brothers, fhe has 
but one, and he has increafed inilead of diminifhing 
her fortune. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

Talk no more of thefe things, I hate the very 
name of fortune at prefent. 



A COMEDY. 277 



LADY GOODBODY. 

Pardon me ; but I mud tell you what my ne- 
phew Robert did : It may be good for another 
new-made nephew of mine to liften to it. (Glancing 
a look to Worfhipton.) He and his fifter were left 
orphans without any provifion : I bought him a 
commiflion in the army ; and with the addition of 
fifty pounds which I fent him every year on his 
birth-day, as a godmother's gift, he contrived to 
live refpeclably without debt, and was efteemed by 
his brother officers. 

SIR JOHN HAZEI/WOOD. 

I know it well : a friend of mine had the plea- 
fure of knowing him abroad, where he ferved with 
diftin&ion and honour. 

LADY GOODBODY. 

Yes, he was afterwards ordered abroad with his 
regiment, where he had it in his power to acquire 
a little money with integrity; the belt part of which 
(three thoufand pounds) he fent home to his fifter 
immediately, that fhe might no longer be dependent 
even upon me ; and it fhall be paid down to you, 
Sir John, upon her wedding-day. 

SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD. 

No ; God forbid that a country gentleman fhould 
add to his ample income the well-earn'd pittance of 
a foldier ! I will have nothing from the ypung herq 



278 THE COUNTRY INN, 

but the honour of being allied to him ; and what 
advantage may accrue, by the bye, to my family, 
by fetting fo fair an example to fuch members of it 
as may not have walked altogether in his footfteps, 

WORSH1PTON. 

Well, well, I underftand you ; but tell me no 
more of your good-boy ftories at prefent : this 
crofs-fated day has taught me a powerful leffon 
which makes every other fuperfluous, (E.xeunt* 



CONSTANTINE PALEQLOGUS; 

OR 

THE LAST OF THE CJESARS : 
A TRAGEDY, 

IN FIVE ACTS. 



T 4 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA, 

MEN: 

Constantine Paleologus, Emperor of the Greeks. 
Mahomet, the Turkifh Sultan. 



Friends of Con- 
ftantine, and be- 
longing to his 
brave band of 
volunteers. 



Othus, a learned Greek, 

Rodrigo, a Genoefe naval com- 
mander, 

Justiniani, a noble Genoefe, 
and afoldkr, 

Petronius, } Greeks, and fecret agents of Ma- 

Marthon, 5 hornet. 

Osmir, vizir to Mahomet. 

Heugho, an old domejlic officer of Conftantine'x. 

Othoric, a rude but generous adventurer. 
Fortune-teller, Citizens, Attendants, &c. 

WOMEN: 
Valeria, wife of Conftantine. 
Ella, daughter c/Tetronius. 
Lucia, a lady attendant on Valeria. 
Ladies and Attendants. 

The Scene in Conftantinople, and in the camp of 
Mahomet, near the City* 



PQNSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. A large-platform on the roof of the pa* 
lace of Fetronius, from which are feenfpires and 
towers, and the broken roofs of houfes, &c. with 
the general appearance of a ruined city, the d'tftant 
parts involved infmoke. Ella is dif covered with 

an attendant, flanding on a balcony belonging to 

a f mall tower, rifingfrom the fide of the platform. 

As the curtain draws up the found of artillery is 

heard. 

Enter Othus and Marthon. 

othus. 

Ah, fee how fadly chang'd the profpeft is 
Since firft from our high ftation we beheld 
This difmal fiege begin ! 'Midft level ruin, 
Our city now (hews but its batter'd towers, 
Like the jagg'd bones of fome huge animal, 
Whofe other parts the mould'ring hand of time 
To duft refolves. 



2$2 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

MARTHON (coldly). 

It does indeed fome faint refemblance hold 
To what thou haft compar'd it to. — How is't 
Art thou not from the walls ? 

OTHUS. 

No, not immediately. 

MARTHON. 

Wert thou not there when Mahomet's huge 

cannon 
Open'd its brazen mouth and fpoke to us ? 
How brook'd thine ears that deep tremendous 

found? 
The coafts of Afia and th' Olympian heights, 
Our land-begirded feas, and diftant ifles, 
Spoke back to him again, in his own voice, 
A deep and furly anfwer ; but our city, 
This lad imperial feat of Roman greatnefs : 
This head of the world, this fuperb fucceffor 
Of the earth's miftrefs, where fo many Csefars 
In proud fucceffive lines have held their fway, 
What anfwer fent fhe back ? 

OTHUS. 

Fye, hold thy tongue ! 
Methinks thou haft a pleafure in the thought. 
This head o' the world — this fuperb fucceffor 
Of the earth's miftrefs, as thou vainly fpeak'ft, 
Stands midit thefe ages as in the wide ocean 
The laft fpar'd fragment of a fpacious land' 



A TRAGEDY. *8j 

That in fome grand and awful miniftration 

Of mighty nature has ingulphed been, 

Doth lift aloft its dark and rocky cliffs 

O'er the wild wade around, and fadly frowns 

In lonely majefty. But fhame upon it ! 

Her feeble, worthlefs, and degen'rate fons 



MARTKON. 

Yes, what fay'il thou of them ? they alfo are 
The fragments of a brave and mighty race, 
Left on this lonely rock. 



OTHUS. 

No, Mail them ! on its frowning fides they ciufrer 
Like filly fea-fowl from their burrow'd holes, 
Who, flaring fenfelefs on th' invaders toil, 
Stretch out their worthlefs necks, and cry " caw ] 

caw r 
O, Paleologus ! how art thou left, 
Thou and thy little band of valiant friends, 
To fet your manly bofoms 'gainfl the tide ! 
Ye are the lad fparks of a wailed pyre 
Which foon (hall be trode out. — 
We are the lad green bough of an old oak, 
Blafted and bare : the lovelier do ye feem 
For its wan barrennefs ; but to its root 
The axe is brought, and fvith it ye mufl fall. — 

Ye are O God ! it grafps my fweliing throat 

To think of what ye are. 



28 4 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS 



MARTHON, 

A brave band, truly : 

But ftill our gallant emp'ror and his friends, 
Oppos'd to Mah'met and his num'rous holl 
With all his warlike engines, are in truth 
As if one tofs'd againft the whirl'd-up fands 
Of their Arabian plains, one grafp of duft. 



OTHUS. 

Yes, they are few in number, but they are 
The eflence and true fpirit of their kind ; 
The foul of thoufands. A brave band they are, 
Not levied by the power and wealth of Hates j 
And the beft feelings of the human heart 
Have been the agents of their princely chief, 
Recruiting nobly. Virtuous Sympathy, 
Who on the weaker and deferted fide 
His ample, lib'ral front doth ever range ; 
Keen indignation, who, with clenched hand 
And flernly-flafhing eye, ever beholds 
The high o'erbearing creft of proud oppreffion ° x 
And gen'rous Admiration, above all, 
Of noble deeds, whofe heav'n-enlighten'd fmile, 
And imitative motion, ever wake 
With eager heart-throbs at the glorious fight 
Of manly daring, have unto their numbers 
Some fcore of dauntlefs fpirits lately added ; 
Such as would ride upon the whirlwind's back, 
If it might be, and with Heaven's fpearmen cope. 



A TRAGEDY. iS^ 

With fuch a band, methinks, all things are pof- 
fible. 



Marthon (fmiling). 
Why, thou foft man of peace, 
Who in gay banquets fpend'ft thy giddy nights, 
And o'er fome fculptur'd ftone, or ancient lore, 
Each idle morning waft'ft in the cool made, 
Thou fpeakeft with a bold and warlike voice ! 

othus (throwing back his cloak, and jhewing undet 
it a warlike garb, with the fcarf and devices be* 
longing to the imperial band J. 
Ay, and wear' ft too a bold and warlike form. 
Behold what now I am 1 thou fhrinkeft back, 
And looked ftrangely on me : give thy lips 
No friendly blefling to my new eftate ? 

MARTHON. 

Heaven blefs the brave ! 

OTHUS. 

Amen ! but thou art cold. (Sound of artillery is 

heard again. J 
O hear that found ! 
Doth it not ftir thee as it thund'ring growls 
Along the diftant fhore ? (Shaking his head.) 

It moves thee not. 
Is that the found of female voices near us f 

MARTHON. 

Yes ; fee'ft thou not on yon high balcony 
3 



286 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGLTS: 

That pale and fearful maid ? her watchful eaf 
Is ever turn'd to ev'ry diftant found. 



OTHUS. 

My gentle kinfwoman upon the watch ! 
I know for whom fhe fears ; nor do I marvel j 
For me was prefent on that crowded more, 
When Genoa's captain brought his gen'rous fuc- 

cour, 
And faw the brave contention of thofe men, 
In their proud veflels bearing boldly on, 
With wavy pennants floating on the wind, 
Whofe armed fides, like a goodly bank, 
Breafted the onward tide of oppofition. 

(Speaking with a great deal of appropriate gejlure.) 
No wonder that her fancy has been mov'd i 
Oh, it did ftir the women on our walls— 
The infants — yea, the very houfhoJd curs, 
That from their kennels turn'd to look upon it ! — 
But for that motley crowd of moving things 

Which we mifcail our men Nay, by the light, 

Thou too dofl hear me with a frozen eye ! 

Enter Ella haftily from the balcony , and puts her 
hand eagerly upon the Jhoulder of Othus, ivh& 
turns round furpr if ed+ 

ELLA. 

What fayed thou of him ? where fights he now ? 
Or on the land, or on fome floating fence-? 



A TRAGEDY. 2S7 



OTHUS. 

Of whom fpeak'fl thou, fair Ella ? 

ELLA. 

Nay, nay ! thou know'fr. right well. Did I not 

fee thee, 
High as I flood, e'en now, tolling thine arms, 
And motioning thy tale with fuch fit gefture 
As image fhips and fails, and daring deeds ? 
Of whom fpeak even the beggars in our flreets 
When they fuch action ufe ? Thou know'it right 

well, 
Of Genoa's captain, and of none but he. 
Did'il fee him from the walls ? 

otkus (fmiling). 
My little kinfwoman, 
Thou looked with a keen and martial eye 
As thou dofl queftion me : I faw him not ; 
I come not from the walls. 

ELLA. 

Didft thou not talk of him as I defcended r 

OTH 

Yes, of that noble fight. — But doft thou fee 

(Pointing to bis dr 
There are more warriors in the world, Ella, 
Tho' men do talk of us, it pmft be granted, 
With action more compoi'd. Behold me now 



288 CONSTAN'VlNE PALEOLOGUS: 

The brave Rodrigo's comrade, and the friend 
Of royal Coriflantine ; who is in truth 
The nobleft beaft o' the herd, and on the foe 
Turns a bold front, whilft with him boldly turn 
A few brave antlers from a timid crowd, 
That qilakes and cowrs behind. 



ELLA. 

Yes, Othus, I did mark thy martial garb : 
Heaven's angels blefs thee ! 

OTHUS. 

And earth's too, gentle Ella. (Artillery heard 

again,) 

ella (to Othus, Jlarting fearfully ). 
O dofl thou fmile and fuch light words affect 
Whilft ruin growls fo near us ! hath fad ufe 
Made mifery and fport, and death and merriment, 
Familiar neighbours ? — I'll into my chamber. 

Enter Petronius and a difguifed Turk. 

petronius (Jiernly to Ella). 
Yes, to thy chamber go : thou liv'ft methinks, 
On the houfe-top, or watching in the towers. 
I like it not ; and maiden privacy 
Becomes thy ftate and years. (To Othus.) Ha ! art 

thou Othus ? 
Thou'rt well accoutred, footh ! I knew thee not. 



A TRAGEDY. 289 

MARTHON. 

Yes, he is now a valiant foldier grown : 
His Grecian lute, and pen, and books of grace 
Are thrown afide, and the foft letter'd fage 
Grafps a rude lance, 

ELLA. 

Nay, mock him not, for it is nobly done. 

petronius (Jlernly to Ella). 
' Art thou flill here ? ( Exit Ella abafoed and 

chidden. 
And now, my Lord, — (Turning to Othus). 

othus (angrily). 
And now, my Lord, good evening: 
I too, belike, mall trefpafs on your patience, 
If longer I remain. (Exit. 

Petronius. 
Well, let him go, it fuits our purpofe better. 
But who could e'er have thought in warlike garb 
To fee him guis'd ? He, too, become a fool ! 

MARTHON. 

He thought, as well I guefs, to move me alfo 
His brave devoted brotherhood to join : 
This was his errand here. 

U 



290 CONSTANTlNE PALEOLOGUS * 

PETRONIUS. 

I do believe it well : for Conftantine, 
With many fair and princely qualities 
That in his clear morn no attention drew, 
Now, on the brow of dark adverfity, 
Hangs like a rainbow on a furly cloud, 
And all men look to him. But what avails 
This growing fentiment of admiration 
To our good means ? Good Turk, where is thy 
gold ? 

Turk (giving him a bag). 
There, Chriftian, whom I may not well call good, 

PETRONIUS. 

That as thou wilt : but Mahomet thy mailer 
Shall find me Hill his faithful agent here. 
This very night, as 1 have promis'd to him, 
The people fhall in infurreclion rife. 
Clam'ring to have the city yielded up ; 
And if your narrow caution (lint me not 
In that which rules the florm, it (hall be rais'd 
To the full pitch. 

TURK. 

And what is that, Petronius ? 

PETRONIUS. 

More gold. Ay, by thy turban and thy beard J 
There is a way to make our timid fluggards 



A TRAGEDY. 1^1 

The Sultan's work within thefe walls perform 
Better than armed men. 



TURK. 

And what is that, I pray ? 

PETRONIUS. 

Why, more gold flill. 

I have in pay, befides our mutinous rabble, 

Who bawl, and prate, and murmur in our flreets, 

Prophets, and conjurers, and vifion feers, 

And wife men not a few, whofe fecret haunts 

The timid flock to : many are the palms 

That mud be touch'd. — There are within our walls 

Of idle, flothful citizens, enow, 

If with their active matter they mould join, 

Still to defend them : therefore, be affur'd, 

He who mail keep this fickle, wav'ring herd 

From fuch wife union, mall to Mah'met give 

This Miftrefs of the Eaft. 

TURK. 

Fear not $ thou malt be fatisfied. 

PETRONIUS. 

Right : let us now to work : 'tis near the time 
When, from the walls returning with his friends, 
The Emperor his ev'ning hour enjoys, 
And puts off warlike cares : now let us forth, 
And urge thofe varlets on. (To Marthon.) 

Do thou into the eaflern quarter go, 

U2 



* 9 2 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

And fiir them up. Where is our trufty Gorbus ? 
The weftern is his province. Send him hither : 
We muft fome counfel hold : meantime within 
I wait his coming. Be thou fpeedy, Marthon. 

( Exit Marthon. 
Remember, friend. (To the Turk.) 

TURK. 

Thou (halt be fatisfied. 

PETRONIUS. 

Good fortune fmile upon us ! (Exeunt. 

SCENE II. A State Apartment in the Imperial 
Palace^ with fplendid fideboards fet forth , on which 
are feen cups and goblets 9 &c. as if prepared for a 
grand repajl, and federal dome/lies crojfingtbeflage, 
carrying different things in their hands. 

Enter Heugho, followed by a Stranger and two in- 
ferior domeflic Officers, 

keugho (after looking over every thing). 
Is naught omitted here ? the rubied platters 
And the imperial cup — I fee them not. 

FIRST OFFICER. 

What boots it now, encompafs'd thus with foes 
And death and ruin grinning at our fide, 
To fet forth all this fumptuous garniture, 

i 



' 



A T R A G E D Y. 293 

Which foon mall in a Turkifh haram fhine ? 
The Emp'ror heeds it not. 

heugho (Jlamping with his foot J. 
Dog, but I heed it ! 
And were the floating remnant of a wreck, 
With the fea bellowing round it, all that now 
Remain'd of the eaftern empire, I thereon, 
Until the laft wave wafh'd us from its fide, 
Would humbly offer to brave Conflantine 
The homage due to mine imperial lord. 
Out on thee, paltry hind ! go fetch them hither. 

(Exit Officer. 

STRANGER. 

This is the hour, you fay, when Conflantine, 
Like a tir'd woodman from hfs daily toil, 
Unclafps his girded bread: ; and with his friends 
Enjoys his focial meal right cheerfully 
For one fo overfhadow'd with dark fate. 
I am a (Iranger here, and, by your leave, 
I fain would tarry flill to have one view 
Of his moll: noble countenance. 

HEUGHO. 

Thou'rt welcome. 
And, gentle ftranger, thou wilt fee a prince, 
Who ably might have reign'd, had tint his heart 
To the foft (hades of friendly intercourfe 
Still turn'd, as to its true and native place. 
A prince with loving friends, but lacking troops : 

■ u 3 



294 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

Rich in the dear good-will of gen'rous minds, 
But poor in kingly allies. One thou'lt fee, 
Whofe manly faculties, befet with gifts 
Of gentler grace, and foft domeftic habits, 
And kindlieft feelings, have within him grown 
Like a young foreft-tree, befet and 'tangled, - 
And almoft hid with fweet incumb'ring fhrubs ; 
That, till the rude blaft rends this cluft'ring robe, 
Its goodly hardy ftem to the fair light 
Difcovers not. Hark ! now they come : 

(Flonrijh of trumpets.) 
Stand thou fecure, and fee whate'er thou wilt. 

(Calling to fome people off the ft age.) 

Ho ! you without ! move there with more difpatch. 

(Several domeftlcs again crofs theftage as before.) 



STRANGER. 

See, yonder come the brave imperial friends, 
If right I guefs. They bear a noble mien. 
And who is he who foremoft walks with fleps 
Of gravely-meafur'd length, and heavy eyes 
Fix'd on the ground ? (Feinting off theftage.) 



IIEUGKO. 

That is Jufliniani ; a brave foidier, 
Who doth o' tiptoe walk, with jealous care, 
Upon the very point and higheft ridge 
Of honour's path, demure and circumfpeel, 
Like nicefl maid, proud of her fpctlefs fame > 
A fteady, cheerlefs friend. 
5 



A TRAGEDY. -295 

STRANGER. 

And who is he with open, lib'ral front, 
Who follows next ? 

HEUGHO. 

He is the brave Rodrigo ; 
That Genoefe, who, with four gallant fhips, 
Did in the front of the whole Turkifh fleet 
So lately force his pafTage to our port, 
Bearing us gen'rous and mod needful fuccour. 
Does he not look like one, who in the fight 
Would fiercely ftrive, yet to the humbled foe 
Give quarter pleafantly ? 

STRANGER. 

And who comes after with more polinYd afpe<El, 
But yet, methinks, keen and intelligent ? 

HEUGHO. 

Oh, that is Othus ; a foft letter'd fage, 
Who wears his foldier's garb with its firfl glofs, 

STRANGER. 

Conftantine comes not yet ? 

HEUGHO. 

No ; firfl of all to his imperial dame, 
Who o'er his mind a greater influence has 
Than may, perhaps, with graver wifdom fuit^ 

u 4 



2 9 6 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

Being a dame of keen and lofty pafTions 
Tho ? with fair virtues grac'd, he ever pays 
His dear devotions : he will join them fhortly. 
But foftly, here they are. 

Enter Justiniani, Rodrigo, Othus, and many 
others of the Emperor's friends, armed as if re* 
turned from the vjalls. 

rodrigo (to Jufliniani). 
Thou'rt flernly grave : has aught in this day's 
fight 
Befall'n, thy eager temper to difturb ? 

JUSTINIANI. 

Your firfl directed fire mould, in good right, 
Have been againfl that Turkifh flandard fent, 
Rear'd in their front. 

RODRIGO. 

And (hall we feiioufly expend our ftrength 
In paying worfhip to each Turkifh rag 
That waves before our walls ? 
But frown not on me, friend : perhaps I'm wrong. 
We who are bred r.pon a bark's rough fide, 
And midft the rude contention of the waves, 
Muil force our fleady purpofe, as we may, 
Right in the teeth of all oppofmg things, 
Wreflling with breakers on the fcourged rock 
Or tilting it with a feal's cub, good faith ! 
As it may chance, naught do we know of forms. 



A TRAGEDY. a$7 

OTHUS. 

Another time, valiant Juftiniani, 
With more refpect to warlike ceremony 
We will conduct ourfelves. 
Rodrigo well hath pled his own excufe ; 
And I, thou knoweft, am but new in arms. 

JUSTINIAN!. 

Methinks, ev'n to a child it had been plain 
That, when fo circumftanced 

OTHUS. 

Hum, hufb, I pray thee, now I the emp'ror comes: 
This is his hour of cheerful relaxation, 
Snatch'd from each circling day of bufy cares, 
A faint gleam thrown acrofs a difmal gloom, 
Let us not dark it with our petty brawls. 

Enter Constantine. 

constantine (fainting them). 
A pleafant meeting to us all, brave friends, 
After our day of toil ! There be among ft us 
Tir'd limbs that well have earn'd their hour of reft; 
This kindly-focial hour, this fleeting blifs 
Of the tir'd labourer. Undo our bracings, 
And let us fup as lightly as we may. (Taking off 
his helmet , which he gives to an attendant. J 
This galls me ftrangely : 
Mine armourer, methinks, has better (kill 



3 9 S CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

To mar men's heads than fave them. 
Nay all of you, I pray. (They all begin to take off 
their helmets, and part of their armour.) 
And gentle Othus too, unbrace thyfelf : 
How likefl thou the gripe of foldiers' geer ? 

OTHUS. 

Worn in the caufe for which I wear it now, 
It feels like the clofe hug of a rough friend, 
Awkward but kindly. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Thanks, gen'rous Othus! it had pleas'd me better 
To've had the gentle fervice of thy pen. 
Thou could'ft have told, if fo it might have been, 
How brave men acted, and how brave men fell. — 
Well, let it be. (Turning afide to check his emotion, 
and then ajfuming a cheerful face.) 
You gallant feamen, in th' applauding view 
Of the throng'd beach, amidft the tempefl's rage, 
Ev'n on the laft plank of your fever'd bark, 
Jlide it careeringly, my brave Rodrigo ! 

RODRIGO. 

Yes, royal fir ; with brave true-hearted mates 
AH things we do and bear right cheerfully, 

CONSTANTINE. 

And fo will we. — Your hand, my gallant friend! 
And yours, and yours, and yours, my brave 
Eubedes— * 



A TRAGEDY. 299 

And noble Carlos too — and all of you— 

(Taking all their hands, one after another.) 
I am indeed fo mated. 

Bring me a cooling cup, 1 pray, good Heugho, 
My tongue is parch'd. (Heugho prefents a cup to 

him kneeling. 
What, wilt thou ftill upon thine aged limbs 
Thefe cumb'rous forms impofe ? Thefe furly times 
Suit not fuch ceremony, worthy Heugho, 

HEUGHO. 

Be health and fweet refrefhment in the draught. 
My royal matter ! 

constantine (iajling it). 
And fo there is : few cups prefented thus 
Come with fuch kindnefs. But I have, in truth, 
Shrunk, as a potentate, to fuch fmali grafp, 
That now I fairly may put in my claim 
To the affections of a man. — Brave friends. 
Health to ye all ! (Drinks, then ti with a 

fmile to juftiniani.) 
Juftiniani, I with thee alone 
Jrlave caufe of quarrel in this day's long toil. 

JUSTINIANJ. 

How fo, an' pleafe your highnefs ? 
The holy hermit, counting o'er his beads, 
Is not more fcrupulous than I have been 
JSTaught of his. facred duty to omit. 



3&Q CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS; 

CONSTANTINE. 

Thou put'ft a grofs affront upon the worth 
Of alj thy warlike deeds ; for thou from them 
Claim'fl not the privilege to fave thyfelf 
From needlefs dangers. On the walls this day 
Thou hail expofed thyfelf like a raw (tripling, 
Who is afham'd to turn one ilep afide 
When the firft darts are whizzing pad his ear. 
Rodrigo there, beneath an afs's pannier 
Would fave his head from the o'er-pamng blow 5 
Then, like a lion iiTuing from his den, 
Buril: from his fhelter with redoubled ardour. 
Pray thee put greater honour on thyfelf, 
And I will thank thee for it. 

JUSTINIANI- 

I ftand reproved. 

CONSTANTINE. 

I'm glad thou doft. — :Now to our focial rites! 
No tir'd banditti in their nightly cave, 
Whofe goblets fparkle to the ruddy gleam 
Of blazing faggots, eat their jolly meal 
With toils, and dangers, and uncertainty 
Of what to-morrow brings, more keenly feafon'd 
Than we do ours. — Spare not, I pray thee, Heugho, 
Thy gen'rous Tufcan cup : I have good friends 
Who prize its flavour much. (As he turns to ga 
with bis friends to the bottom of the flage, 
where a curtain between the pilars being 



A TRAGEDY. 301 

drawn up, difcovers their repqfi Jet out, a 
Citizen enters in hqfte.) 



CITIZEN. 

I crave to fpeak unto the emperor. 

CONSTANTINE. 

What is thine errand ? 

CITIZEN. 

My royal fir, the city's in commotion : 
From ev'ry ftreet and alley, ragged varlets 
In crowds pour forth, and threaten mighty things. 
But one, whom I out-ran, comes on my fteps 
To bring a fuller tale. 

constantine (to Citizen). 
Thou'rt fure of this ? 

citizen. 
It is mofl certain. 

constantine (to Othus.) 
What think'ft thou, good Othus ? 

OTHUS. 

1 doubt it not : 'tis a degraded herd 
That fills your walls. This proud imperial city 
Has been in ages pafl the great high-way 
Of nations driving their blind millions on 
To death and carnage. Thro' her gates have paft 



3 o2 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSi 

Pale cowled monarchs and red-fworded faints, 

Voluptuaries foul, and hard-eyed followers 

Of fordid gain — yea all detefted things. 

She hath a common lake or fludge-pool been, 

In which each pafiing tide has left behind 

Some noifome fediment. She is choak'd up 

With mud and garbage to the very brim. 

Her citizens within her would full quietly 

A pagan's Haves become, would he but promife 

them 
The fure continuance of their flothful eafe. 
Some few reftraints upon their wonted habits 
And Mah'met's gold, no doubt, have rous'd the 

fools 
To this unwonted ftir. 

CONSTANTINE. 

It may be fo : I fhall wait further tidings. 
Meantime, my friends, go ye, and as ye can, 
Snatch a fhort foldier's meal. (They he/itate.J 

Nay, go I pray you ! 
I muft not to my friends fay " I command." 

(They all go immediately ', and without any order ■, 

Jlandhig round the table, begin to eat. J 
(To the Citizen, remaining Jl ill on the front of 
thejiage.) 
And fo thou iay'ft But lo ! another meffenger. 

Enter another Citizen in great hajle. 

SECOND CITIZEN. 

The citizens in crowds — the men and women — 



A TRAGEDY. 303 

The very children too — mine eyes have feen it— • 
In crowds they come — . 

CONSTANTINE. 

Take breath, and tell thy tale 
DiftindUy. From what quarter corned thou ? 

SECOND CITIZEN. 

I'm from the eafl. 

Enter Third Citizen. 

THIRD CITIZEN. 

I come to tell your highnefs that the city 
Is in commotion ; ev'n with flem-forks arm'd, 
And all the implements of glutt'nous floth, 
The people pour along in bawling crowds, 
Calling out, " bread," and " Mah'met," and " fur- 
render," 

Towards the royal palace. 

\ 

CONSTANTINE. 

And whence art thou ? 

THIRD CITIZEN. 

I'm from the weftern quarter. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Ha ! fpreads it then fo wide ? (Calling to his 
friends at the bottom ofthejlage.) 



5©4 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS; 

Friends, by your leave, 
I fomewhat mud upon your goodnefs bear. 
Give me my helmet and my fword again : 
This is no partial fray. (Beginning to arm, whiljt 
all the reft follow his example.) 

RODRIGO. 

Well, let us joille with thefe ragged craft, 
And fee who grapples bell. (Buckling on his ar- 
mour gayly.) 



JUSTINIANI. 

A foldier fcorns to draw his honour'd blade 
On fuch mean foes : we'll beat them off with flicks. 



OTHUS. 

Words will, perhaps, our better weapons prove* 
When us'd as brave men's arms mould ever be, 
With {kill and boldnefs. Swords fmite fmgle foes, 
But thoufands by a word are (truck at once. 

(As they all gather round Conftantine, and are 
ready to fellow him, enter Valeria in great 
alarm, followed by Lucia, and fever al ladies.) 

Valeria (to Conftantine). 
O, hail thou heard it ? 

CONSTANTINE, 

Yes, my love, they've told me. 



A TRAGEDY. 305 



VALERIA. 

From the high tower my ladies have defcry'd 
The dark fpires redd'ning in their torches' light, 
Whilft, like the hoarfe waves of a diftant fea, 
Their mingled voices fwell as they approach. 



CONST ANTINE. 

It is a ftorm that foon will be o'erblown: 
I will oppofe to them a fixed rock, 
Which they may beat againfl but cannot (hake. 



VALERIA. 

That is thyfelf.— O, no ! thou fhalt not go ! 
Yea, I am bold ! misfortune mocks at ftate, 
And flrong affe&ion fcorns all reverence ; 
Therefore, before thefe lords, ev'n upon thee, 
Thou eaftern Casfar, do I boldly lay 
My woman's hand, and fay, " thou fhalt not go, 



» 



CONSTANTINE. 

Thy woman's hand is flronger, fweet Valeria, 
Than warrior's iron grafp, 
But yet it may not hold me. Strong affection 
Makes thee mod fearful where no danger is, 
Shall eaftern Caefar, like a timid hind 
Scar'd from his watch, conceal his cowering head ? 
And does an empire's dame require it of him? 

X 



3o6 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

VALERIA. 

Away, away, with all thofe pompous founds ! 
I know them not. I by thy fide have fhar'd 
The public gaze, r.nd the applauding fhouts 
Of bending crowds : but I have alfo fhar'd 
The hour of thy heart's forrow, frill and filent, 
The hour of thy heart's joy. I have fupported 
Thine aching head, like the poor wand'rer's wife, 
Who, on his feat of turf, beneath heaven's rcof, 
Refts on his way. — The dorm beats fiercely on us: 
Our nature fuits not with thefe worldly times, 
To it mod adverfe. Fortune loves us not ; 
She hath for us no good : do we retain 
Her fetters only ? No, thou (halt not go ! 

(Twining her arms round him.) 
Py that which binds the peafant and the prince, 
The warrior and the flave, all that do bear 
The form and nature of a man, I flay thee ! 
Thou ihalt not go. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Would'ft thou degrade me thus ? 

VALERIA. 

Would'ft thou unto my bofom give death's pang? 
Thou lov'it me nor. 

constantine ('ivith emotion, Jiretching out his 
hands to his friends, ivhojtand at Jams diftance). 
My friends, ye fee how I am fetter'd here. 



A TRAGEDY. 307 

Ye who thus bravely to my fortunes cling 
With generous love, lefs to redeem their fall 
Than on my waning fate by noble deeds 
To fhed a parting ray of dignity : . 
Ye gen'rous and devoted \ ftiil with you 
I thought to fhare all dangers : go ye now, 
And to the current of this fwelling tide 
Set your brave breads alone. (Waving them off 
with his hand, and then turning to her,) 
Now, wife, where would'ft thou lead me ? 

Valeria (pointing with great energy to the friends 
w/j'j are turning as if to go out). 
There, there ! O, there ! thou haft no other way. 
(Brufhing away her tears hajlily, and then af 
fuming an air of dignity, Jhe takes Conftan- 
tine by the hand, and leading him acrofs the 
ft age, prefents him to his friends,) 
Moft valiant, honour'd men, receive your chief, 
Worthy the graceful honours of your love, 
And heaven's protecting angel go with you ! 

(Exeunt Conftantine and his friends, paying 
obeifance to her as they retire, which fhe re- 
turns with the profoundefl rcfpecl, continuiyig 
to look after them till they are out of fight; then 
returning to the front of thejlage with a deep 
figh, remains for fome time with her eyes fixed 
on the ground,) 

LUCIA. 

My dear and royal miftrefs, be not thus ! 
The Deople will their fov'reign lord refpect. 

X2 



30S CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS 



VALERIA. 

Will they ? Where is my little Georgian maid, 
Whofe grandfire, tho' a brave and fov'reign prince. 
Was piece-meal torn by a ferocious crowd ? 

LUCIA. 

She told a wonderful furcharged tale, 
Perhaps to move your pity : heed it not. - 

VALERIA. 

Ah ! whereunto do all thefe turmoils tend — ■ 
The wild contention of thefe fearful times ? 
Each day comes bearing on its weight of ills, 
With a to-morrow fhadow'd at its back 

More fearful than itfelf. A dark progreflion — 

And the dark end of all, what will it be ? 

LUCIA. 

Let not fuch gloomy thoughts your mind o'er- 
caft; 
Our noble emperor has on his fide 
The dark and potent powers. 

VALERIA. 

What is thy meaning ? 

LUCIA. 

A rarely-gifted man, come from afar, 
Who fees ftrange vifions rife before his fight 
Of things to come, hath folemnly pronounc'd it, 



A T R A G E D Y. 3°9 



That Paleologus has on his fide 
The dark and potent powers. 



VALERIA, 



Alas ! alas ! are they the friends of virtue ? 
Who told thee this ? 



LUCIA. 

4 



One unto whom he told fuch marv'llous things 
As did all nat'ral knowledge far exceed. 

VALERIA. 

Thou dofl imprefs me with a ftrange defire, 
As tho' it were upon my mind imprefs'd 
By fecret fupernatural power. Methinks, 
Were this dread night with all its dangers paft, 

I too would fain — Ha ! hark ! what noife is 

that ? (Lijlening with great alarm*) 

Hark, hark ! it is the found of many founds, 
Mingled and terrible, tho* heard afar. 

LUCIA. 

Shall I afcend the tower, and give you notice 
Whate'er I fee ? 

Valeria (eagerly). 
I'll go myfelf. ( Exit in great alarm, followed by 
Lucia and ladies. 

END OF THE FIRST ACT. 



*3 



3io CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS 



ACT It 

SCENE I. An open Street before the imperial pa- 
lace. A crowd of men, women, and children dif- 
covered, bearing in their hands torches, with clubs, 
flicks, SsV. and theflage entirely lighted by the red 
glare of their torches caft up againfl the walls of the 
building. The confufed noife and clamour of a 
great crowd is heard as the curtain draws up. 

FIRST CROWD. 

Holla ! let them come forth who trouble us, 
And love they blood and beating they fhall have it. 

SECOND CROWD. 

Surrender ! bread and wine, and peaceful days ! 
Surrender, devils, or ye fhall pay the cdft. 

(All the Crowd call out clamoroufly, and bra>t* 
dijlo their torches, &c. in a threatening manner 
againfl the palace.) 

THIRD CROWD. 

Muft we, men well inftructed, rear ? d, and che- 
rifh'd, 
The chiefeil of all townfmen of the earth ; 
We, whom all nations know and look upon 

5 



A TRAGEDY. 3*1 

With envious worfhip — mud we from our meals . 
And quiet couches, like your rude barbarians, 
Be fcar'd and rous'd with the continued bellowing 
Of curft artillery ? it is a fhame. 



FIRST CROWD, 

It is a crying, an infulting fhame. 
Ev'n Mahomet regards our poliuYd race 
And rare acquirements ; but for Conftantine 



SECOND CROWD. 

Ay, ay ! let him come forth with his bafe crew 
Of favage ftrangers ; and fliould they refufe us, 
Ev'n with good teeth and nails, fail other means, 
We will do vultures' work upon them all. 
(All of them calling out together, and brandijh'mg 

their torches, &f. as before. J 
H0II4 ! holla ! we fay to you again ; 
Emperor ! Conftantine ! come forth to us ! 

(A grand door of the palace opens, from which 
two flights of flairs defend into theflreet, and 
Conftantine with his friends appear corning 
out upon the landing place. The Crowd raife 
(i great noife upon feeing him, and he f retches 
put his hand as if he wiffjcdtofpeak, but they 
Jlill continue loud and clamorous.) 



CONSTANTINE. 

Audience, if that your fov'reign may command it, 

x 4 



CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS ; 



FOURTH CROWD. 

Yes, let us hear what he will fay to us. 
(Several together.) ' There is no harm in that : peace 
all of you ! 

CONSTANTINE. 

Behold me at' your wifh, affembled citizens : 
Was it the voice of children or of foes 
That call'd me forth ? 



THIRD CROWD, 

Go to with mocking words! are we thy children? 

CONSTANTINE, 

Ye fay, indeed, too truly ! children do 
Support, and honour, and obey their fire : 
They put their aiding hand to every burden 
That prefles on him : ever gather round him * 
When dark misfortune lowers; and, ftrong in them, 
He lifts his honour'd head amidfl the floral, 
Bleffing and blefs'd. 

But I have flood in the dark pafs alone^ 
Facing its fierce!! onfet. In your homes, 
Ye've flretch'd your eafy limbs and fann'd your 

brows, 
Whilft 1 in parching toil have fpent the day, 
Aided by ftrangers. Ye too truly fay 
"Are we thy children ?" — ^-When my iky was 

clear. 



A T RAGED Y. 3*3 

Ye follow'd me with fond applauding love, 

And bade God blefs your fire ; but when it 

lower'd, 
Back to your homes ye fhrunk, and gen'rous 

ftrangers 
Are by my fide where children fhould have flood, 

(A confufed murmur rifes amongfl them, and fojne 
call out.) He fpeaks good reafon, neighbours. 

(Others call out.) Out on it ! all fair words ! 
(Others.) Peace, firs ! we'll hear him out. 

(Others.) No 1 no ! no ! no ! (Brandijhing their 

torches 'violently.) 

othoric (breaking through than with a great club 

in his hands). 

Peace, friends, I fay ! I am a ftrong Hungarian, 

And I will hear him out. (The clamour fubfides.) 



CONSTANTINE. 

Yes, when the tempefl lower'd ye fhrunk away, 
But if fome gen'rous fhame has mov'd you now — *r' 
If, thus aiTembled, with repentant zeal 
Ye would return, behold thefe open'd arms ! 
O there be (till amongfl ye men fufficient 
To fave your city, your domeflic roofs, 
Your wives, your children, all that good men love - 
Were each one willing for a little term 
To face but half the dangers which perforce 
Not doing this, he {lands expofed to ; 
To bear but half the toils which I bear daily, 
And (hall bear lovingly, 6 



3r 4 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

FIRST CROWD. 

Go to ! furrender and have done with it. 

Who thanks— who calls upon thee for thy toils ? 

CONSTANTINE. 

That voice which, in the hour of trial, bids 
The good man give his foft and fenfitive frame 
To death and torture, and ev'n fearful woman 
Bend her fair neck unto th' uplifted ftroke, 
Calls upon me — yea, and I will obey it ! 

OTHORIC. 

By the good faints he fpeaks like a brave man, 

FIRST CROWD. 

Acts he like one ? will he come down to us ? 
(Several /peaking together.) He does ; he comes 
in truth ! 
(Conftantine, after /peaking in dumb Jhoiv to his 
friends •, de/cends the Jlairs.J 

SECOND CROWD. 

Ay, in good faith, he comes unarmed too ! 

CONSTANTINE. 

No, citizens, unarm'd I am not come ; 
For ev'ry good man here fome weapon wear;* 
For my defence. 



A TRAGEDY. 315 



FOURTH CROWD. 

Yes, he fays well; and we'll defend him too. 
(Several others.) And fo we will ; huzza! huzza! 
huzza ! 
Long live brave Conftantine, our noble Emperor ! 
( Many /peaking at once.) No, no ! peace and fur- 
render is our call ! (Raifing loud cries, and 
brandifoing their torches with violent threat- 
ening geftures.) 



FOURTH CROWD. 

Hear him out, fools, and he'll perhaps confent 
To hon'rable furrender. 



constantine (to Fourth Crowd, and thofe who 
range them/elves on his fide J. 
No, friends ; if in this hope with me ye ftand ? 
Turn to your place again ; for whilft I breathe, 
With men enough in thefe encompafs'd walls 
To fire one gun, never fhall Turkifh banner 
Upon our turrets wave. In this firm mind, 
Upon thofe walls I am content to die, 
By foe-men ilain, or, if heav'n wills it fo, 
Here on this fpot, by thofe I will not name, 



OTHORIC. 

No ! we will die fml, be it as it may, 
Ere one hair of thy noble head fhall fall ! 



Ji6 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS . 

crowd (on Conftantine'j^k&J. 
Long live brave Conftantine ! brave Paleologus ! 
Huzza ! huzza ! 

crowd (on the oppofitefide). 

No ; bread, and peace, and Mahomet, fay we! 

(Both parties call out tumultuoujly , and threaten 

one another ', and Rodrigo, Juftiniani, and 

Othus rujh down amongjl them, leaving their 

other friends to guard the door of the palace. J 



SECOND CROWD. 

Ay, thou, fea-lion ! thou too needs muft come 
To growl upon us. (To Rodrigo.) 



RODRIGO. 

No, faith ! I know you well : ye are at large 
A fet of foft, luxurious, timid flaves, „ - 
On whom a cat with muffled paws might mew, 
And ye would turn from it. — But (till amongft you, 
I would upon it pledge my main and claws, 
There are fome honed fouls who have ere now 
OuafPd their full bumpers to a brave man's health, 
And I, in footh, am come, with their good leave, 
To make hands with them all. (Holding out his 
hand invitingly to the oppofite croud. J 
Come ; who loves valiant worth and Paleologus, 
Qixq me his hand. 



A TRAGEDY. 



3*1 



(Many of the crowd giving him their hands.) There 
is one for thee. 
(Second. J Ay, and there. (Third. J And there. 



rodrigo (to one who hefitatcs). 
And thou too, for thou wear'ft upon thy brow 
■A foldier's look : I mud perforce have thee. 

(Cafiing up his hat in the air 9 and joined by all 
the crowd on his fids.) 
Long live brave Conftantine ! huzza ! 

(This they continue to do till the oppofite party 
are difpirited and beat off the flage. Rodrigo 
then prefints his newly-acquired friends to 
Conftantine.) 

CONSTANTINE. 

I thank you all, my brave and zealous friends* 
Within the palace walls I'll now conduct you, 
And martial there my new-gain* d ftrengh, for 

which 
I give heaven thanks. 

(Exeunt Conftantine, followed by his friends, 
&c. Rodrigo walking laft, and j lift about to 
go offtheftage, when Othoric re-enters by the 
oppofte fide, and calls after him. J 

OTHORIC. 

Hark ye ! a word with ye, my noble captain. 

rodrigo (returning). 
What woukTft thou fay ? 



318 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 



OTHORIC. 

Look on my face ; my name is Othoric ; 
I'm ftrong, thou fee'ft, and have a daring foul : 
Look on my face ; my name is Othoric : 
Think'ft thou thou (halt remember me, tho* thou 
Should'ft ne'er again behold me ? 

RODRIGO. 

I fhall, my friend : thou haft a daring counte- 
nance. 

OTHORIC. 

My deeds fhall not belie it. With this crowd 
I came, a ftranger of moft defp'rate fortune, 
And hir'd by treach'rous men fell work to do. 
But now, unhir'd, I'll do for your brave mafter 
A deed that fhall make Turkifh ears to tingle, 
And Chriftian too, or fail it or fucceed. 

RODRIGO. 

What wilt thou do ? 

OTHORIC. 

The confcioufnefs of what one arm performs 
Let one heart keep. 

RODRIGO. 

Heaven aid and profper then thy'fecret thought, 
If it be good and honed ! Fare thee well ! 

(Exeunt fever ally- 



A TRAGEDY. 319 

SCENE II. A/mall narrow Street, before a pri* 
vate /ombre-looking boufe* 

Enter Othus and Rodrigo. 

OTHUS. 

Move flovvly here, for now we pafs the fane_ 
In which the myftic vifion-feeing fage 
To ears of faith fpeaks his wild oracles. 

RODRIGO. 

What, he of whom we've heard fuch marv'llous 
things ? 

OTHUS. 

Yes ; fuch perturbed times his harveft prove, 
When anxious minds, in dread of coming ill, 
Would draw afide, impatiently, the veil 
Of dark futurity. — Softly, I pray : 
A female form now iiTues from the door : 
It moves, methinks, like Ella. 

Enter Ella from the houfe with a female Attendant* 

rodrigo (eagerly). 
It is herfelf, and I will fpeak to her. 
Fair maid, as well I guefs by th it light trip, 
Thy lover's fate hangs on a lucky thread \ 
Tough, and well whiten'd in a kindly fun. 



Zio CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

ELLA. 

Well haft thou guefs'd : fortune is pafllng kind ; 
She leads thee, fights for thee, and guards thy head 
From ev'ry foe-man's ftroke. 

ROBRIGO. 

Ay, but thy lover, Ella ; was it not 
Of him we fpoke ? 

ELLA. 

Fye, do not mock me thus I 

OTHUS. 

In truth he mocks thee, Ella, and no faith 
To fates foretold or myflic fages gives. 

RODRIGO. 

Believe him not, fweet maid. We feamen, truly, 
Small dealings have with learn'd forcery ; 
Nor bead, nor book, nor ring, nor mutter'd rhymes, 
Are for our turn : but en the fea-rock's point, 
In fhape of hern, or gull, or carrion bird, 
Our unfeed wizards fit, and, with ftretch'd throats, 
Speak flrange myfterious things to wave-tofs'd men, 
With many perils compafs'd. Nay, ofttimes 
The mermaid, feated on her coral ftool, 
Spreading her yellow hair to the funn'd breeze, 
Will fing a fong of future fortunes fair 
To him who has the luck to meet with her : 
And ev'n the nightly winds will thro' our fhrouds 



A TRAGEDY. 321 

Diftinctive voices utter unto thofe, 
Who in their ftorm-rock'd cradles lie and think 
Of their far-diftant homes. — I do believe 
That all good fortune (hall betide thy love, 
Being thy love ; for that doth far outdo 
All other fortune ; and befides, no doubt, 
A fair and courtly youth. 

ELLA. , 

Go to ! go to ! thou mockeft me again ! 
I love a brave man — 



RODRIGO. 

And not paffing fair, 
Nor very courtly ? 

OTHUS. 

No, nor wearing now 
His youth's beft bloom ; but fomewhat weather- 
beaten, 
And funn'd on fultry fhores ? 

ELLA. 

Fie on you both, you hold me in derifion ! 
I'm young, and all unlearn'd, and well I know 
Not paffing fage ; but do I merit this ? 

(Turns to go away from them in tears.) 

RODRIGO. 

By heavens thou fhalt not go ! (Catching hold of 
her hand to prevent her.) 
Y 



y-z CONSTANTINE FALEOLOGUS : 

Thou fweeteft thing 

That e'er did fix its lightly-fibred fprays 

To the rude rock, ah ! would'ft thou cling to me ? 

Rough and florm-worn I am : but if thou lov'ft 

me, — 
Thou truly dofl, I will love thee again 
With true and honed heart, tho' all unmeet 
To be the mate of fuch fweet gentlenefs. 

OTHUS. 

I hear a noife of footfteps : we'll retire ; 
Let us purfue our way. (Locking behind as they 

'Tis one belonging to Valeria's train, 

Who hither comes with quick and eager gait. 

(Exeunt. 

SCENE III. A large f ombre room, with my flic at 
figures and ftrange characters painted upon the 
walls y and lighted only by one lamp, burning upon a 
table near the front ofthejlage* 

Enter a Conjuror in a long loofe robe, and Petro- 
nius, meeting him, by opt cfite fides, 

PETRONIU5. 

Well, my good fage, how thrives thy my flic trade? 
Go all things profperoufly ? 

CONJUROR. 

As thou couldft wifti : to many a citizen 



A TRAGEDY. 323 

1 have the fix'd decree of fate foretold, 
Which to the fultan gives this mighty city, 
Making all oppofition and defence 
Vain ; and their fuperftition works for us 
Mofl powerfully. 

PETRONIUS. 

So far 'tis well ; but be thou on thy guard ; 
I am exprefly come to caution thee. 
Should any vifit thee, whom thou fufpe&eft 
To be connected with th' imperial friends, 
Be fure thy vifions fpeak to them of things 
Pleafant to loyal ears. 

CONJUROR. 

Fear not ; I have already been forewarn'd, 
And have fuch caution follow'd. 

PETRONIUS. 

Thou haft done wifely : ftill keep on thy guard, 
And be not ev'n furpris'd if thou, ere long, 
Should'ft have a royal vifitor. My agents, 
Who in th* imperial palace are on watch, 
Have giv'n me notice that Valeria's mind 
Is this way bent. If fo, let thy delufions 
Still tempt her in the city to remain, 
For herein is the fultan much concern'd. 
Hufh ! we are interrupted. 

Enter a Servant. 

Servant (to Conjuror). 
A noble matron craves to fpeak with thee. 
Y2 



32 4 C0NSTANT1NE PALEOLOGUS: 



CONJUROR, 

Doft thou not know her ? 



SERVANT. 

No ; in a black ftole 
She's clofely veil'd ; yet noble is her gait ; 
And her attendant underneath his cloak, 
But ill conceal'd, wears an imperial crefi. 

petronius and conjuror ( both together). 
Can it indeed be me ? (Paufing to confider.) 

CONJUROR. 

I'll venture it. (to Servant.) Go and conduct her 
hither. (Exit Servant. 

It muft be fhe : I'll boldly venture it. 

PETRONIUS. 

Thou may'ft with little rifk : meantime, remember 
The caution I have given thee. 

CONJUROR. 

Truft to my {kill, and be a while withdrawn, 
My noble patron. (Exit Petronius. 

Enter Valeria, concealed under a long black Jlole, 
followed by Lucia and two female Attendants, who 
remain at the bottom of the ftage whiljl fhe comes 
forward. 



A TRAGEDY. 3 %f 

CONJUROR. 

Approach, great dame. 

VALERIA. 

Yes, in misfortunes fo; 
That is my eminence : and unto thee 
I come, an anxious fuitor, if that truly 
Th' unfeen myfterious powers with whom thou 

deal'ft, 
To human weal and woe alliance bear, 
And may unto the care-rack'd mind forefhew 
The path of awful fate that lies before it. 
I do befeech thee ! 

conjuror. 
Say thou doft command ; 
For thro' that fable ftole, were it as thick 
As midnight's curtain, (till I could behold 
Thy keenly-glancing eye, and the dark arch 
Of royal brows accuftom'd to command. 

VALERIA. 

Ha ! doft thou fee me ? 

CONJUROR. 

Yea; and who is he, 
Whofe fhadowy unreal form behind thee towers, 
As link'd with thine tho' abfent ? O'er his head . 
Th' imperial eagle foars, and in his hand 
He grafps the emblem of fupreme command, 

Y 3 



326 C0N5TANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

Valeria (throwing back thejiole with aftoni foment 
mixed with fear), 
O, moft myfterious and wonderful ! 
Nothing is hid from thee : thou fee/ft afar 
The diftant death's day of the fwathed babe, 
Falling in hoary age, and the life's morn 
Of thofe who are not. — Here then all confefs'd, 
A wretched emprefs and a trembling wife, 
I (land before thee. O let thy keen eye 
Thro' the dark mid that limits nature's fight, 
Follow that phantom o'er \vhofe head doth foar 
Th' imperal bird ! for, be it good or ill, 
His fate is mine, and in his fate alone 
I feek to know it, 

CONJUROR. 

And hail thou ftrength to bear it ? art thou firm? 
For that which fmites mine eye muft fmite thine 
ear. 

vale ri a (alarmed J. . 
Thou reck'neft then to look on dreadful things ? 

conjuror. 
I may or may not ; but with mind not brac'd 
In its full ftrength, feek not thy fate to know. 

Valeria (after a hefjating paufe of great agitation), 

I can bear all things but the dread uncertainty 
Of what I am to bear. 



A TRAGEDY, 327 



CONJUROR. 

Then (hall it be unto thee as thou wilt. 

(After fome myfterious motions and mattering to 

himfelf he turns his face towards the bottom 

of the ft l age ', as if he had his eye fteadfaftly 

fixed upon fome diftani point; and continues 

fo for fome time without moving, whilft jhe 

fiands watching his countenance eagerly, with 

her face turned to the front of the ft age. ) 

Valeria (impatiently, after a paufej . 
O ! what doff thou behold ? 

CONJUROR. 

Nay, nothing yet but the dark formlefs void. 

Be patient and attend.- 1 fee him now : 

On the tower'd wall he fiands : the dreadful battle 
Roars round him. Thro' dark fmoke, and (heeted 

flames, 
And mowers of hurtling darts, and hiffing balls, 
He ftrides : beneath his fword falls many a foe : 
His dauntlefs breaft to the full tide of battle 
He nobly gives. — Still on thro* the dark ftorm 
Mine eye purfues him to his fate's high cope— 

VALERIA. 

His fate's high cope ! merciful, awful heaven ! 

(After a paufe.) 
O, wherefore doft thou paufe? thine eyes roll 
terribly : 

Y 4 



3*8 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

What doft thou fee ? thou look'ft on things moft 

dreadful ! 
O look not thus, but fay what thou doft fee ! 

CONJUROR.. 

I fee a frowning chief, the crefcent's champion, 
In bold defiance meet thy valiant lord. 
The fight is fierce and bloody. 

VALERIA. 

Again thou paufeft yet more terribly. — 
Haft thou no utterance for what thou feeft ? 
O God ! O God ! thou look'ft upon his death ! 

(Clafping her hands violently,} 
Doft thou not fpeak ? wilt thou not anfwer me ? 
Thou look'ft upon his death ! 

CONJUROR. 

I look on nothing, for thy frantic terrors 
Have broke the fabric of my air-fhap'd vifion, 
And all is blank. 

VALERIA. 

And will it not return to thee again ? 
O fix thine eyes, and to it bend thy foul 
Intently, if it ftill may rife before thee, 
For thou haft made me frantic ! 

conjuror C after a paufe, and fixing his eyes as 
before,) 
The forms again return — 



A T R A G E D Y. 329 

The champions meet : the fight is fierce and ter- 
rible : 
The fateful flroke is given ; and Conflantine 

VALERIA. 

Merciful heaven ! 

CONJUROR. 

And Conflantine lays the proud crefcent low. 

Valeria (paufingfor a moment as if to be ajfured 
that jhe has heard right , and then holding up her 
hands in extafy.) 
It is ! it is ! O words of blifs ! — Thou fee'fl it ! 

My Conflantine lays the proud crefcent low ! 

Thou look'fl upon it truly ; and their forms 

Before thee move, ev'n as the very forms 

Of living men ? 

CONJUROR. 

Even fo. 

VALERIA. 

O bieffed fight ! 
It is not witch'ry's fpell, but holy fpirits 
Sent from a gracious heav'n that fhapes fuch forms; 
And be it lawlefs or unhallow'd deemed, 
Here will I kneel in humble gratitude. 

conjuror (preventing her from kneeling)* 
No, no, this mufl not be : attend again : 
There's more behind. 



3$o CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

VALERIA. 

Pa ! fay'ft thou more behind ?— Or good or evil? 

CONJUROR. 

Mixed I ween : 'tis flill in darknefs lapp'd. 

VALERIA. 

In darknefs let it reft : IVe heard enough. 
I would not look upon thine eyes again, 
And in my fancy fhape thy unfeen fights, 

For all that e'er Is that which lies behind 

A far extended vifion ? (Paufing anxiou/ly.j 

Thou wilt not anfwer me — well, refl it fo. 
Put yet, O forward look for one fhort year, 
And fay who then fhall be this city's lord. 

CONJUROR. 

Thy hufband and thy lord, moil mighty dame, 
ghall at that period be this city's lord. 

VALERIA. 

Then I am fatisfied. Thou haft my thanks, 
My very grateful thanks. There is thy recompenfe, 
And this too added. (Giving him a purfe, and then 

a ring from her hand* J 
We fhall meet again 
Jn happier days, when the proud crefcent's low, 
And thou fhalt have a princely recompenfe. 

(Turning to her Attendants as jhe goes away. J 
Come, Lucia ; come, my friends ; the florin will 
pafs, 6 



A TRAGEDY. 3$* 

And we fliall fmile in the fair light of heaven 

In happier days, (Exit, followed by her Attendants, 

conjuror (looking at his reward). 
Good footh, this almoft fmites againft my heart; 
But goes (he not far happier than fhe came ? 
Have I not earn'd it well ? 

Reciter Petronius. 



PETRONIUS, 

Thou haft well earn'd it. 
What ! harbour fuch poor fcruples in a breaft 
So exerciied in a trade like this ? 
Fye on't ! But if thy confeience is fo nice, 
Know that thou haft in all good likelihood 
Predicted truly ; and her lord and hufband 
Shall be ftill, as thou fay'ft, this city's lord. 



CONJUROR. 

How fo ? 



PETRONIUS. 

Haft thou not {kill enough to guefs ? 
Much has the fultan of Valeria heard ; 
And, with the future beauties of his palace, 
His fancy, in the moft diftinguifh'd rank, 
Already places her. Thou wilt ere long, 
I can foretel by certain fleeting fhapes 
Which at this moment dance before mine eyes, 
A favour'd, famous, courtly prophet be. 



532 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

My little Ella too, taught by my art, 
May play, perhaps her part ; and fo together 
We'll amicably work. — May it not be ? 
Put up thy gold and fay it is well earn'd. 

CONJUROR. 

It muft be had, and therefore mud be earn'd, 
Falfely or honefliy. — Does Conftantine, 
As fpeaks this morning's rumour, fend again 
Another embafly to Mahomet 
With terms of peace ? 

PETRONIUS. 

He does, my friend : already in the palace 
He, and his band of felf-devoted fools, 
Deliberate on it. Thou, at no great rifk, 
May'ft prophefy the iflue of their counfels, 

CONJUROR. 

I have adventured upon bolder guefiing, 

PETRONIUS. 

Excepting that flight aid from Genoa, 
Which by the mafter of a coafting veiTel, 
Kept fecretly on watch, I am inform'd 
Is now almoft within fight of the coaft, 
No hope remains to Conftantine. And this 
Shall not deceive him long ; for I've difpatch'd, 
In a fwift-failing fkiff, a trufty agent, 
Who fhall with coftly bribes and falfe reports 
Peter their boldnefs from all defp'rate efforts 



A TRAGEDY. 333 

To force a paflage to the block'd-up port : 
A thing, Rodrigo's bold fuccefs alone 
Hath taught us to believe e'en poffible. 

CONJUROR. 

Thanks for your information, my good lord : 
I'll profit by it. 

PETRONIUS. 

But ufe it prudently. And fo good day. 
Well thrive thy trade, and all good luck attend us. 

(Exeunt federally. 

SCENE IV. An apartment in the Imperial palace \ 
with a view through a grand arched door of an- 
other apartment, in which are difcovered Conftan- 
tine, Othus, Juftiniani, Rodrigo, and others, 
arifingfrom a council table. They enter and come 
forward. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Well, my brave friends, I to your care intruft 
This lad attempt by honourable treaty 
To gain peace from the foe. Heav'n blefs your 
efforts. 



JUSTINIANI. 

All that ftri£t honour will permit to us 
Shall be mofl truly done, imperial lord, 
And one ftep farther on we cannot go. 



534 C0NSTANT1NE PALE6L6GUS 



CONST ANTINE. 

Had I wifiVd more than this, Juftiniani, 

I had fent other minifters. » 

Heav'n blefs your efforts, brave ambaffadorSj 
And make you wife as brave I • 

If we fucceed not, 
As much I fear, it is my earned wifh, 
Ere the grand pufh that (hall our fate decide, 
To meet you all in bleffed charity, 
And join with you, perhaps, in the Ian: rites 
Of chriftian worfhip that within our walls 
Shall e'er be celebrated. 



OTHUS. 

Your wifh fhall be fulfill'd : we all defire it. 



CONSTANTINE. 

I thank you. In an hour hence be prepar'd 
To fet out for the fultan's camp. So, brothers, 
Good day, and all good favour. 

(Exeunt all but Conftantine and Othus. 

con stan tike (to Othus as he is about to go after 
the others J. 
Wilt thou go alio, Othus ? 

OTHUS. 

Not if your highnefs does command my flay. 



A TRAGEDY. 335 

CONSTANTINE. 

Ah> gentle friend ! I do no more command ! 
But this diftreffes thee. Well, gen'rous man, 
Thou art commanded. (Pointing to a feat , and they 

both fit,) 
Here, by thy friendly fide, 
I'll give my heart a little breathing fpace ; 
For oh ! the gen'rous love of thefe brave men, 
Holding thus nobly to my finking fate, 
PrerTes it forely. 

From thee nor from myfelf can I conceal 
The hopelefs Hate in which I am befet. 
No foreign prince a brother's hand extends 
In this mine hour of need ; no chriflian flate 
Sends forth its zealous armies to defend 
This our begirded crofs : within our walls, 
Tho' with th' addition of our later friends, 
I cannot number foldiers ev'n fufficient 
To hold a petty town 'gainft fuch vaft odds. 
I needs mud fmile and wear a brow of hope, 
But with thee, gentle Othus, 1 put off 
All form and feeming ; I am what I am, 
A weak and heart-rent man. — Wilt thou forgive 

me? 
For I in truth mud weep. 

OTHUS. 

Yes, unreftrained weep, thou valiant foul 
With many a wave o'er-ridden! Thou ftriv'fl 
nobly 



536 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

Where hearts of ilerner fluff perhaps had funk : 

And o'er thy fall, if it be fo decreed, 

Good men will mourn, and brave men will fried 

tears, 
Kindred to thofe which now thou fned'd. Thy 

name 
Shall id fucceeding ages be remember'd 
When thofe of mighty monarchs are forgot. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Deceive me not ; thy love deceiveth thee. 
Men's actions to futurity appear 
But as th' events to which they are conjoin'd 
Do give them confequence. A fallen ftate, 
In age and weaknefs fall'n, no hero hath ; 
For none remain behind unto whofe pride 
The cherifh'd mem'ry of his acts pertains. 

no, good Othus, fame I look not for. 
But to fuftain in heaven's all-feeing eye, 
Before my fellow men, in mine own fight, 
With graceful virtue and becoming pride, 
The dignity and honour of a man, 

Thus ftation'd as I am, I will do all 
That man may do, and I will fuffer all — 
My heart within me cries, that man can fuffer. 

( Starting up with vehemence^ and holding up 
both hands firmly clenched.) 
Shall low-born men on fcaffolds firmly tread, 
For that their humble townfmen mould notblufhy 
And (hall I (brink ? No, by the living God ! 

1 will not drink, albeit I fhed thefe tears. 



A TRAGEDY. 337 

OTHUS. 

To be in toils and perils, nay in fufferings, 
With th' applauding fympathy of men 
Upon his fide, is to the noble mind 
A ftate of happinefs beyond the blifs 
Of calm inglorious eafe. 

CONST ANTINE. 

O no, good Othus ! thou misjudged of me. 
I would, God knows, in a poor woodman's hut 
Have fpent my peaceful days, and fhar'd my crufl 
With her who would have cheer'd me, rather far 
Than on this throne $ but, being what I am, 
ril'be it nobly. 

OTHUS. 

Yes, thou wilt be it nobly, fpirit as brave 
As e'er wore Cadar's name ! 

constantine (fmiling forroufully ) . 
Yes, there is caufe for me ; there is good caufe. 
But for thofe valiant men, link'd in my fate, 
Who have in other lands their peaceful homes 
And dear domeftic ties, on whom no claim 
Lays its ftrong hold — alas ! what caufe have they ? 
What is their recompenfe ? Fame is not mine ; 

And unto them O this doth prefs my heart ! 

A heart furcharg'd with many cares, and prefs'd— ~ 
With that befides^ which more than all — with that 
Which I have wreftled with — which I have ftrove — 

Z 



338 CONST ANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

With that which comes between me and myfelf — 
The felf that as a chriftian and a man 
I ftrongly drove to be 

OTHUS. 

You have before fome fecret caufe of trouble 
Hinted in broken words : will not your highnefs 
Unto a faithful friend 



- const antine (turning away from him). 
No, no, good Othus ! 
Sometimes I dream like a diftra&ed man 
And nurfe dark fancies. Power and lawlefs will—* 
Defencelefs beauty — Mahomet — Valeria — 
Shape out of thefe wild words whate'er thou wilt, 
For I can fay no more. 

OTHUS. 

Alas, I know it all ! 

CONSTANTINE. 

And yet why fhould it thus diflurb my mind ? 
A thought, perhaps, that in no other breaft 
Hath any fhelter found. — It is my weaknefs : 
I am afliamed of it. — I can look 
On my fhort-fated fpan and its dark bound : 
lean, God ftrength'ning me, my earthly tafk 
Clofe as becomes a king ; and, being clos'd, 
To that which in this world's tumultuous flage 
Shall happen after it, I am as nothing. 



A TRAGEDY. 339 



OTHUS. 

Alas ! my royal mafter, do not thus 
To racking thoughts give away ! is there not means 
To free you from this pain, if you to ufe them 
Have courage ? Let the emprefs be convey'd 
Far from thefe walls. It is a cruel remedy, 
But it will give you peace. 

CONSTANTINE. 

I did attempt it, but fhe has fo clofely 
Entwin'd herfelf upon me — O, my friend, 
It needs muft pafs! I in th' unconfcious grave 
Shall be at reft. 



OTHUS. 

But does fhe know the nature of your fears ? 

CONSTANTINE. 

O no ! fhe does not ! from that hateful fubjecl:, 
As from a hideous ferpent, ftill with her 
Pve kept aloof. — Alas ! what can I do ? 
I could as well into her noble heart 
Thruft the barb'd dart as tell her what 1 fear. 



OTHUS. 

Perhaps fhe ftill, as from the common horrors 
Of a fack'd town, may be conjur'd to flee. 
And here fhe comes ; be it at leaft attempted, 

Z2 



34° CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

Enter Valeria, Lucia, and attendant Ladies. 

Valeria (to Conftantine). 
I come to claim thy promife : one fhort hour, 
A hafly funbeam thro' the cloucPs dark fkirt, 
Thou giv'ft to me, and I mud claim my right. 
Thy friends too, ere they go, mail be my guefts : 
I have brought powerful fuitors to affift me. 

(Pointing to her ladies,) 
Ha ! what diflurbs thee ? how is this, my love ? 
Thy face is chang'd and troubl'd — What new 
caufe 

CONSTANTINE. 

O, no new caufe ! one that has much diflurb'd 
me. 

VALERIA. 

* And one to me unknown ? 

CONSTANTINE. 

Speak to her, Othus ! 

OTHU5. 

By many various ills and cares opprefs'd, 
Your royal lord is ftill mod clofely touch'd 
With that which does your weal regard. What fate 
May, in a ftorm-ta'en city, of dire fights 
And horrid cruelties, have in referve, 
3 



A TRAGEDY. 34* 

If fuch the city's doom, who can forefee ? 
O, let him then his painful ftation hold, 
Gen'rous Valeria ! from one care reliev'd, 
Hk heavier!: care, the thought of leaving thee 
The involved witnefs of fuch horrid things i 

VALERIA. 

What would'ft thou fay in this ? Think'ft thou 
the ruin 
In which he perifhes will have for me 
Or form or circumflances ? It will be 
Th* upbreaking crafh of all exifling things, 
That undiftinguifh'd is, and felt but once. 
Othus, thou talk'ft like an unfkilful fage : 
It was not thus thy matter bade thee fpeak. 

CONST ANTINE. 

Valeria, hard neceflity compels us. 
I have already fafe afylum fought 
For the laft tender remnant of our race, 
That fomething might from this dire, wreck be 

fav'd, 
And fhall I not for thee > N 

VALERIA, 

No - 9 I am nothing 
But what I am for thee ! When that is nnifh'd — 

CONSTANTINE. 

Ah, my Valeria, but that will not finifh ! 
Thou (till may'ft be for me— thou (till may'ft bea* 

Z 3 



342 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

Honour'd memoral amongft living men 

Of him who was thy lord. — Good Lucia, aid me, 

And gentle Servia too, and all of you ! 

(To the Ladies). 
Cling round your midrefs with your foothing love, 
And fay that in a foreign land you'll be 
The faithful friends and foothers of her woe, 
Where ev'ry virtuous heart will bear to her 
The kindred ties of holiefl fympathy. 
Say ye will be with her in kindlied zeal: 
Ye will not leave her ? 

lucia and the other Ladies. 

No, we'll never leave her ! 
(Gathering round her affeclionately.) 
Mod dear and royal Miflrefs, whilft life holds, 
In what'er land, in what'er date you are, 
We'll never leave you. 

VALERIA. 

I know it well : thanks to your gen'rous love ! 
But yet forebear, nor thus befet me round. 

( Putting them gently from her, and fixing her 
eyes upon Conflantine.) 
O, Paleologus ! haft thou for me 
In fancy fhap'd a world and an exiftence 
Where thou art not ? (Running to him and falling 

on his neck.) 
Here is my world, my life, my land of refuge, 
And to no other will I ever flee. 
Here dill is light and hope ; turning from this. 
All elfe is round me as a yawning tomb. 



A TRAGEDY. 343 



CONSTANTINE. 

My deareft love ! my gen'rous honour'd love! 
My fweet Valeria ! thou diftracteft me ; 
But have thy way, for I can urge no more, 
Let dark fate come : 1 will abide its worfL 

VALERIA. 

Nay, fay not dark ; there is a hope within me $ 
'Tis fure, 'tis flrong, it cannot be deceitful, 

(A fignal heard from without.) 
Hark ! hark ! a fignal ! 

(Voices are heard calling without,) Ships are in 
fight ! fupplies and warlike aid ! 

Valeria (holding up her hands). 
O blefTed found ! there is falvation in it. 
Heaven fends us aid ! (Voices again call out as be- 
fore ', and the fignal is repeated*) 
Again the blefTed found ! 
And here Rodrigo comes, wearing a face 
Of welcome tidings. 

Enter Rodrigo. 

Succours, brave Rodrigo? 

RODRIGO. 

Yes, mips from Genoa are now in fight, 
Bearing, no doubt, brave aid, if to the port 
They can make good their entrance. 

( All except Conflantine.) Good heaven be blefs'd 
Z 4 



344 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS* 

CONSTANTINE. 

And fays Rodrigo " if" I (Shaking his head.) 

VALERIA* 

Nay, fear not, they will enter ; with them comes 
Another brave Rodrigo ; thro* barr'd adamant, 
Did it oppofe them, they will force their way. 

RODRIGO. 

If they but have one jot of manhood in them, 
They'll 4o all pofTible things. 

VALERIA. 

Ay, and all things are poflible ! 

CONSTANTINE. 

In truth, thou talk'ft with fuch exulting confw 
dence, 
Thou almoft tempted me to grafp at hope. 

(Voices call out as before, and a fignal from the 
towers. J 

VALERIA. 

The animating found ! Come, come ! O, come ! 
And o'er the blue waves hail the bleffed fight. 

(Runs out exult ingly, every one following her 
with animated alacrity. 



END OF THE SECOND ACT, 



A TRAGEDY. 345 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. The Turkifi Camp: the tent of Ma- 

hornet, who is dif covered fitting alone in the 

eafiern manner, with a great Jheet of parchment 

fpread out before him, which he is confidering aU 

tentively, 

mahomet (after tracing fome lines with a pen or 
pencil J. 

JTlo, Ofmir! art thou here ? 

Enter Osmir. 
Come hither, vizir ; follow with thine eye 
The various difpofitions of this plan 
Which for our grand attack I here have traced. 
God and the Prophet being on our fide, 
That mingled broil of fierce and dreadful fight 
Which fhall not ceafe till from the lift of nations 
This eaftern empire, with its long told line 
Of paltry Csefars, be expung'd and blank, 
Shall not be long delay'd. 

OSMIR. 

All things muft yield unto the towering fpirit 
And comprehenfive genius of your highnefs. 
Permit your flave. (Looking over the plan. J 

Conceiv'd, indeed, with deep and wond'rous fkiil ! 



340 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

But mighty lord, if that a worm may fpeak, - 
Your van, methinks, is of a motly clafs, 
The vile refuge and garbage of the camp ; 
Are muffelmen led on in glory's path 
By fuch as thefe ? 

mahomet (fmiling fiercely). 
No ; but brave muffulmen o'er fuch as thefe 
May ftep to glory's path. Garbage, I trufl, 
Is good enough for filling ditches up. 
Some thoufand carcafes, living and dead, 
Of thofe who flrfl (hall glut the en'my's rage, 
Pufh'd in, pell-mell, by thofe who prefs behind, 
Will rear for us a bridge to mount the breach 
Where ableft engineers had work'd in vain. 

OSMIR. 

This did efcape my more contracted thoughts. 
And here your highnefs ftations Georgian troops : 
Are they lure men in fuch important fervice ? 

mahomet (fmiling again). 
Ay, fure as death ; here is my furety for them. 
See'lt thou what warriors in the rear are plac'd, 
With each a cord and hatchet in his hand ? 
Thofe grizly hangmen, in their canvas fleeves, 
Fight for me better than an armed band 
Of chriilian knights full cap-apee. — Look o'er it : 
Something, perchance, may have efcap'd my 
thoughts. 6 



A TRAGEDY. 347 

os mir (after again examining it). 
No ; every thing is confummately plann'd. — 
But, mighty fultan, this old officer, 
Whom you have flation'd here with your new 

troops, 
Is not to be relied on. 

MAHOMET. 

How fo, Ofmir ? 

OSMIR. 

It is fufpected that he has receiv'd 
The en'my's gold ; one thing, at lead, is certain, 
He has had private meetings with the foe. 

MAHOMET. 

What ! art thou fure of this ? — Send for him 

quickly. 
The fool midft blocks and bowftrings has fo long 
His bafe head tott'ring worn, he thinks, no doubt, 
It needs muft be his own. Send from him quickly, 
And fee that which is needful done upon him. 

(Drawing the pen Jiernly acrofs the name on 

the plan. J 
There ; from the world of living things I blot him; 
Another takes his place. (Giving a paper to Ofmir.) 
Thefe are the ufual orders for the night ; 
Alfemble thou the fev'ral officers, 
And give to each his own partic'lar charge. 



34§ CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 



OSIMER. 

Your flave obeys. (Exit. 

Mahomet (alone, after mufingfor a little while J. 

Have I done well to give this hoary vet'ran, 
Who has for thirty years fought in our wars, 
To the death-cord unheard ? (Sternly, after paufing 

afhortfpace.) 
I have done well. 
In my difguifed rounds, but two nights fince, 
Lift'ning at his tent door, I heard him fpeak 
Words that methought approach'd to flight efteem 
Of my endowments and capacity. 
Yes, he is guilty. (After walking up and down fe- 
deral times he opens another fcrolL) 
But I will fear no treafon : here is that 
On which I may rely. In mortal man 
I have no truft ; they are all hollow flaves, 
Who tremble and deteft, and would betray. 
But on the fates, and the dark fecret powers, 
So fay thofe fure unerring calculations 
Of deep aftrology, I may depend. (Sitting down 
again, and conftdering the fcrolL) 
Ay, it muft needs be fo : this conflellation 
In clofe conju&ion with the warrior's ftar, 
Trac'd back in magic numbers three times three, 
And nine times nine, and added three again, 
Unto the hour of my nativity, 
Makes it infallible. Here have I mark'd it 



A TRAGEDY. 349 

With mine own fcience, num'ral, learn'd, and fure. 
Ha ! ha ! your foolifh chriflians now believe 
Men's future fortunes are by wizards feen, 
In airy forms pourtray'd, like mimick (hows, 
And truft thereto with fond fimplicity. 

(Othoric, who about the middle of this fpeech 
has made his appearance from behind the cur- 
tain of the tent, difguifed like a Turk, but 
without a turban, now, Jlealing clofe up to 
Mahomet, lifts up his dagger toftrike.) 
What do I hear ? 

OTHORIC. 

It is thy fate, blind Turk, uncalculated. 

(Striking.) 

mahomet (parrying the blow with his jheathed fci- 
mitar, which he afterwards draws.) 
Ho ! help without ! treafon and parricide ! 

Ho ! guards without, I fay ? (Guards rujh in, and 
Othoric is feized, after defending himfelfdef- 
perately.) 

MAHOMET. 

(To Othoric.) Who art thou ? What dark tyrant 

fet thee on 
To do this murderous and horrid deed ? 

OTHORIC. 

And think'ft thou fuch deeds horrid? — But 1 
came 
To acl; and not to fpeak. 



3Jo CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

MAHOMET. 

Say rather, villain, to be acted on. 
Do racks and burning iron pleafe thee well 
That thou fhould'fr. earn them with fuch defp'rate 

pains. 
(To the Guards.) Stretch out his arms, and let me 

look on them. (Looking at his arms, and 

furveying him all over, he /brinks back as 

from a danger e/caped, and then /miles 

grimly.) 
There will be tough work on thofe finewy limbs 
When they are dealt with. — Lead the traitor off. 
I will give orders For his fate ere long. 

(To Othoric, who is about to/peak. J 
Thou (halt not fpeak : I hate thy horrible face. 
Lead him away ? (Exit Othoric and Guards, met by 

Petronius and Marthon, who enter as they 

are going out. J 

PETRONIUS. 

What prifoner is this they lead along ? 

MAHOMET. 

A dark aflaffin in my tent conceal'd, 
Whofe daring hand ev'n now aim'd at my life. 

petronius (cafiing up his eyes to heaven). 
The life of great and godlike Mahomet ! 
It makes my blood turn cold. 

MARTHON. 

I too am ftunn'd, and tremble at the thought. 



A TRAGEDY. 



MAHOMET. 

Yes, all may tremble who in the dark purpofe 
Have part or knowledge had. 

. petronius and marthon (both alarmed). 
What means my lord ? 

(Mahomet walks fever al times acrofs the ft age 
with angry ft rides ^ whilft they look fearfully 
upon one another ', and then going fternly up to 
them.) 

MAHOMET. 

I know the bafe tranfa&ions of laft night : 
Ye ftufFd my gold into the dirty palms 
Of thofe who fhook their torches in the air, 
And cried long live brave Paleologus. 
I know it all : think ye with upcaft looks, . 
And mumm'ry fuch'as this, to blind mine eyes? 

peronius (falling on his knees). 
As there's a God in heav'n, to you, greafc 
fultan ! 
We have been true ! (Marthon kneels alfo.) 



MAHOMET. 

Up, crouching Haves ! when men fo bred as you 
are 
Thus lowly kneel, my very foul adhors them. 



35* CONSTANTINE PALEOJLOGtJSs 

PETRONIUS. 

Your death, great monarch, were to PaleologuS 
Triumph and fafety, but to us fwift ruin. 

MARTHON. 

And (hall fufpicions fo improbable 
Fall upon us, who in your fecret fervice 
Have dangers brav'd, and from your hands alone 
Look for the recompenfe ? 

PETRONIUS. 

If we laft night have fail'd 



mahomet (flumping with hisfoof). 
I will not hear you ! 

Enter Osmir. 
Ofmir, know'fl: thou this horrible attempt ? ' 

OSMIR. 

I do great prince, and blefs the Prophet's arm 
That has preferv'd you. What bafe enemy 
Has arm'd the defp'rate villain ? 

MAHOMET. 

Petronius here and his fmooth Grecian friend 
Throw accufation on the emperor. 

OSMIR. 

This moment in your camp there is arriv'd 



A TRAGEDY. 3*3 

An embaffage of his mod honour'd friends* 
Sent by the emperor to treat of peace. 



MAHOMET* 

At this unlikely hour ? 

OSMIR. 

Yes, time now preffes, and, as I mould guefsj 
The hopes of fuccour from thofe friendly veffels 
That vainly have attempted through your fleets 
To force a pafifage* railing fhort-liv'd joy 
Full foon extinguifh'd, has to this late hour 
Delay'd their coming. 

Hope gone, they now are humbled fuitors. Here-, 
Within your power, you have the chiefeft men 
Of the brave friends on whom he mod depends ; 
This does not look like preconcerted plots 
Of fecret murder, at this very hour 
To be attempted. 



MAHOMET. 

No, Ofmir, there is reafon in thy words. 

OS MIR. 

But if your highnefs thinks it is expedient^ 
1 will ftraightway arreft them. 

mahomet ( after hefiiating). 
No \ they are valiant men, and do ?.$ fuch 
A a 



354 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

Claim honour from a valiant foe. Go fay, 

That by the morning's dawn they fhali have ai*^ 

dience ; 
The open camp, with wide-mouth'd cannon 

cloth'd, 
And all my lofty garniture of war, 
Shall be my hall of (late. Secure thofe men 
Until my farther orders. (Pointing to Petronius 

and Marthon, and exit, followed by Ofmir. 

Remain Petronius and Marthon guarded. J 

FIRST GUARD'. 

Come on, my matters, we'll conduct you fafely. 

marthon (to Petronius). 
Is it to plunge me in this dreadful gulf 
That your curs'd lelfons have feduc'd my youth ? 

PETRONIUS. 

Upbraid me not. I have not for myfelf 
A better fate referv'd. But we are noble, 
And of high lineage j fear not, for the fultan 
Will ftill refped us. 

SECOND GUARD. 

Ay, fo belike he will ; your noble heads 
May with the royal fcimitar be chopt, 
If he is much inclinM to honour you. 
Some men ere now, in other fultans' days, 
Have been fo honour'd. (Exeunt.) 



A TRAGEDY. 355 

SCENE II. An open /pace in the camp, with the 
Janizaries and Turki/h troops drawn up in order. 
Cannon and warlike engines feen mixed with the 
tents. A flourijh of trumpets ; enter Mahomet, 
with Osmir and his train, and places himfelf in a 
chair offtate near the front of the ft age. Another 
flourifh of trumpets, and enter Othus, Justi- 
niani, and Rodrigo, with a fmall train of At- 
tendants, walking flowly up the ftage. 

mahomet (to Ofmir, as they come forward)* 
Thefe men approach us with a hardy (tep, 
Nor wear the fuppliant's "humbled brow. Come 

they 
To fue or to command us ? (To Othus and the 

other deputies, who make obeifance to him. J 
You are permitted to declare your errand. 
If your hard-le(Ton'd chief, more prudent grown, 
"Will now refign his proud imperial city 
Into the hands to whom high heaven's decree, 
And power on earth refiftlefs, foon (hall give it, 
I will receive that which he cannot hold 
With grace and favour. 

OTHUS. 

High heaven's decrees are known to mortal man 
But in th' event fulfilled ; and for earth's power, 
The cannon flanked cohorts, and wide front 
Of far extended numbers, (hew it not 
To him, who in the fmall and feeret fortrefs, 
A a 2 



356 C0NSTANT1NE PALEOLOGUS: 

E'en of one brave man's bread, more help di£ 

covers, 
Oft in th' aftounding hour of the ftorm's pitch, 
Than in an armed hoft. Imperial Conftantine 
Will live or die within his city's walls 
As may become their mafter. — Neverthelefs, 
He will fo far to hard neceffity ■ ■ 

MAHOMET. 

I hear no more : your words are ineffectual, 
And fall as powerlefs as the ruffian's fword, 
Whom now, within my tent, your royal mailer, 
Compell'd no doubt by hard neceffity, 
Has hired to murder me. 

justiniani (ftepping boldly forward). 
Sultan, thou fitteft where thou fafely may 'ft 
Say what thou wilt, therefore of all mankind 
Thou mod art bound to fay but what is meet. 
Put thofe accufing words that thou haft utter'd 
Into the mouth of any other Turk, 
Wore he a giant's form, for in your camp 
I know that fuch there be, and I will prove it, 
With this good foldier's arm, a curfed falfehood* 

othus (to Jufliniani, pidling him back). 
Thou arc not wife.' — Great fultan hear me fpeak. 
If any bafe attack upon your life 
Has been attempted, let the murd'rous villain, 
If ftill he breathes, be here before us brought. 
In prefence of your highnefs we will queftion him : 



A TRAGEDY. 357 

Perchance he will confefs what fecret foe 
Has arm'd his daring hand. 

mahomet (after giving orders to a guard in dumb 
fhow, who immediately goes out J. 
Your fuit is granted, 
Thefe men fpeak boldly, vizir. (Afide to Ofmir.) 

os mir (afide to Mahomet). 
They fhrink not from the proof. 

Enter Othoric fettered and guarded, 

MAHOMET (tO OthoHc). 

As thou may'ft hope a mitigated doom, 
I here command thee that thou truly anfwer 
Whatever thofe Roman deputies demand. 

OTHORIC, 

I do not hope a mitigated doom, 
And therefore, fultan, cannot be commanded: 
But if this brave man here will queftion me, 

(Pointing to Rodrigo.) 
For in his prefence I do feel my fpirit 
To manhood's height brac'd up, I'll truly anfwer, 
Tho' every word did in my fmews fix 
The burning pincer's tooth. 

RODRIGO. 

Ha! Othoric art thou not? the ftrong Hun- 



garian r 



? 

Aa 3 



3$% CONST ANTINB PALEOL0GUS ; 

othoric (fmiling). 
Ay, thou remembereft my name — I thank thee—; 
It pleafes me to think thou'lt ne'er forget it. 
Afk what thou wilt, and I will anfwer thee ; 
Bid me do what thou wilt, and I will do it ? 
jarring the hindrance of thefe chains. 

ROD RIG q. 

Thanks to thee ! 
Then, whatfoe'er the fultan afks of thee, 
Anfwer him truly. He will point his queflipns 
Where his fufpicion points. 

OTHORIC. 

I will obey. 

mahomet (Jlernly). 
Who hired thee, thou bold and hard-brow 5 4 
villain, 
Such horrid deed to do ? 

othoric 
I have been twice hired, mighty Mahomet, 
To do fell deeds, in which I've lack'd performances 

MAHOMET, 

And who firft hired thee ? 

OTHORIC. 

Thyfelf. 



A TRAGEDY. 3 59 



MAHOMET. 

Bafe traitor ! 
Dar'it thou belie me to my very face ? 

OTHORIC. 

That I belie thee not be this my token ; 
My hire was given to me by Petronius, 
Told from a fable bag, on whofe feal'd mouth 
Thy fcimitar and crefcent were imprefs'd. 

OTHUS. 

Petronius ! 

OTHORIG. 

Yes, that fmooth, fubtle Greek. 

MAHOMET. 

He hir'd thee not to take the life of Conftantine ? 

OTHORIC. 

True ; I was hir'd for wafleful infurre&ion, 
Not for delib'rate murder. Tha* mofl wretched, 
A flranger, grip'd by hard neceflity, 
The price he gave me ne'er had bought this arm 
To fuch an aft. 

MAHOMET. 

And who did hire thee for this fecond deed, 
Which thou muft needs delib'rate marder call ? 
Aa4 



36o CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGITS: 

OTHORIC. 



Twas Conftantine. 



JUSTINIANI. 

Thou lieft, foul, artful villain \ 

MAHOMET. 

Peace I command ! ye fhall not interrupt him. 
'Twas Conftantine that hir'd thee ? 



OTHORIC. 

Yes, great fultan ! 
But not with gold, and he himfelf, I ween, 
Unconfcious of the act. 

MAHOMET. 

What did he bribe thee with ? 



OTHORIC. 

"With that which does but feldom prove the means 
Of like corruption-^-gen'rous admiration 
Of noble manly virtue. I beheld him, 
Like a brave flag encompafs'd by bafe curs, 
And it did tempt me. — -Other bribe than this 
Have I had none ; and to no mortal ear 
Did I reveal my purpofe. 

(Mahomet puts his hand on his forehead and 
feems di/iurbed, ivhi/Ji the deputies hold up 
their hands exulting/y.J 



A TRAGEDY. 361 

rodrigo (to Othoric). 
O for a galley mann'd with fuch as thou art, 
Therewith to face a hundred armed fhips, * 
Creatur'd with meaner life ! 

Yet thou muft die, brave heart! yet thou muft die. 
Thou haft done that which in no circumflance 
Man's hand may do, and therefore thou muft 

perifh. 
But I'll remember thee : thy name is Othoric : 
I will remember thee, 

(DSmir (to Mahomet, who covers his face andfeems 
dijiurb' 'd, after a paufej. 
Your highnefs gives no orders to your flave 
Touching the prifoner. 

mahomet (uncovering his face angrily J. 
His crime \s plain : death be his inftant doom, 

OSMIR. 

And in what mode ? or fimple or with pains ? 

MAHOMET. 

DiftraQ: me not. 

OTHORIC. 

Vizir, be not fo hafty. 
I bear with me what will redeem my life, 
And gain the fultan's pardon. 



362 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS; 

OSMIR. 

Ah ! thinkeft thou to gain him with that bribe 
Which Conftantine gaye thee? (Shaking his head.) 

OTHORIC. 

No, not with that. I wear upon this arm 
A potent band, with fubtile magic wrought, 
That, wherefoe'er 'tis on my body rubb'd 
With mutter* d words which 1 alone do know, 
Maketh the part firm and invulnerable 
To fword, or bullet, or the arrow's point — 
To all offenfive things. Believe me not, 
But fee the proof. — Relieve mine arms, I pray, 
That I may fhew this wonder, 

MAHOMET. 

Unlock his fetters : if he tamper with us, 
His tortures are enhanced. 

othoric (to the guard who Ji ands next him, after 
he has beem unfettered, and at the fame time un- 
covering his left arm). 

Young Turk, thou wear'ft a dagger by thy fijle: 
To fhew that I am made as other men, 
Of fiefh and blood as foft and fenfitive, 
When with no charm fecur'd, thruft it, I pray 

thee, 
Into this nerved flefh. Nay, do not fhrink, 
For Lfhrink not. 
3 



A TRAGEDY. 36^ 

MAHOMET. 

Do it, thou timid Have ! 
(The guard Jligbtly wounds Othoric'j arm with 
the point of the dagger.) 

OTHORIC. 

You fee it is an arm of flefh and blood ; 
And fo you'll find my body in all parts, 
Thruft where you will. — But mark me; where- 

foe'er 
1 rub this band, your weapens have no power. 

(Opening his breaft and rubbing it with a brace- 
let which he takes from his arm, at the fame 
time muttering fome myftical words to him* 

felf-) 
Now try if e'er the ftouteft arm amongft you, 

With pike, or fpear, or keenly-temper'd blade, 
Can pierce this charmed breaft. 

Mahomet (to an Attendant). 
Attempt it, brawny flave ; thine arm is flrong. 
(To Ofmir.) Give him a ftronger weapon. — Now 
the proof ! (The JIave receiving a fword 
from Ofmir, runs with full force upon Otho- 
ric, who falls down, pierced through the 
breaft, and utters a convulfive laugh as he ex* 
pires.) 

RODRiGo (exultingly). 
P, bravely done, thou fpirit of true proof! 



364 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS; 

JUSTINIANI. 

Yes, nobly has he fhunn'd the degradation 
Of flavifb punifhment. 

OTHUS. 

It was a lofty mind in a rude ftate 
Of wild diftorted virtue ; crofs the fancy 
It ftalks a gloomy, dark, gigantic fhade, 
Angel or fiend we know not. 

Mahomet (afide to himfelf turning gloomily away J. 
And Conflantine is ferv'd'by men like thefe ! 

othus (to Mahomet). 
Seeing that of this crime our royal mafter 
Doth clearly ftand acquitted, by your word, 
Mod mighty Mahomet, we are permitted 
To ftate his wifhes. 

MAHOMET. 

No, ambafiadors ; 
I have already faid I hear no more 
Unlefs ye yield the city. — Leave ye have 
In fafety to return. — You and your chief 
O'er a volcano's thinly-bridged gulf 
Have ta'en your ftand, and the dire crafh is near. 

OTHUS. 

And with our chief in that tremendous ruin, 
If it mufl be, we will fink lovingly. 



A TRAGEDY. 36$ 

JUSTINIANI. 

We will fink honourably. 

RODRIGO. 

We will fink glorioufly. Ay, by heaven's light, 
And cheerly too, great fultan ! (PaJJing the body 

of Othoric as they turn to go away.) 
Thou noble wreck, thou wert rigg'd gallantly ! 

(Exeunt Othus, Juftiniani, Rodrigo, and their 
attendants.) 

mahomet (coming forward to the front ofthejlage, 
and flanding for fome time in a thoughtful pojiure 
much difturbed.) 
And Conflantine is ferv'd by men like thefe ! 

osmir (to JIaves, pointing to the body of Othoric), 

Take up the carcafe of that favage ruffian, 
And flick it on a flake for vulture's food. 

mahomet (turning round angrily), 
No, reptiles ! let it have a foldier's grave, 

osmir. 
This is exceeding mercy ; ne'er thelefs, 
Your orders, mighty prince, fhall be obey'd 
By thofe who are as duft beneath your feet. 

mahomet. 
Yes, I do know that I fhall be obey'd. 



366 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

By thofe who are ' -I am begirt with flaves. 

(Turning away, and Jlamping on the ground ai 
he walks.) 
Mine enemy is ferv'd by men like thefe ] 
I will give orders with all prefling fpeed 
That now my grand attack forthwith be made ' 
What next mav be attempted by fuch foes 
Who may divine. 

OSMIR. 

That is the fafeft counfel. 

(Exeunt Mahomet, tojfing his arms and mut- 
tering as he goes out. J 



EKD OF THE THIRD ACT* 



A TRAGEDY. 367 



ACT IV. 

An out-poft belonging to the TurkiJIi camp, with a view 
of the city of Constantinople on the back ground, 
feen in the dimnefs of cloudy moonlight. 

Enter federal Turkijh Soldiers by different ways, 
meeting one another. 

FIRST TURK. 

JTlo ! who are ye ? our friends ? 

SECOND TURK. 

I know thy voice. 

FIRST TURK. 

Yes, we are friends ; but let us feparate, 
And gain our tents as quickly as we may : 
For now thro* all the camp the bufy flir 
Of warlike preparation is begun ; 
And ere the morning dawn, each armed Turk 
Mud hold him ready for th' approaching day 
Of havock, blood, and fpoil. Come, let us on ! 

THIRD TURK., 

Yes ; but, good comrades, do once more look 
back, 



3 6S C0NSTANT1NE PALEOLOGUS: 

And fee, thro' the wan night, thofe buildings 

gleam 
With the laft Chriftian fires that e'er fhall burn 
Within thofe circling walls. 



SECOND TURK. 

Ay, there the Prophet has prepared our reft. 
There foon, midft heap'd-up fpoils, and the wild 

wailings 
Of fetter'd beauty, in our new-won homes, 
We'll caft our reeking fcimitars afide, 
And lay us down in foft and lordly floth. 
Comrades, it is an animating fight. 
But quickly let us gain our tents. — Hum ! hum i 
What Turk comes prowling this way, and alone I 
It looks like Mahomet. 



FIRST TURK. 

It is the fultan on his nightly rounds, 
Difguis'd ; let us avoid him. 



THIRD TURK. 

I'd rather crofs a tiger on my way ; 
For, as the humour hits, it may be fatal 
To know or not to know him. At the bell 
We fhall be deem'd but lawlefs flragglers here : 
Let us all feparate and gain our tents. 

(Exeunt hqftily, all different ways. J 
i 



A TRAGEDY. 369 

Enter Mahomet difgitifed^ followed at a dljlance by 
the Vhsir. 

Mahomet f alone y after walking thoughtfully from 
the boitom of the Jlage^ whilfl Ofmir remains on the 
back ground). 

What boors this reftlefs wiih? 'tis all blank 
filence 
On that for which my greedy ears (till watch. 
There's ne'er a Turk, who, o'er his ev'mng pipe, 
Will not far rather talk of daring feats 
By petty robbers done, than all the fame 
And grand achievements of his fov'reign lord. 
'Tis cheerlefs filence all ! Dull, ftupid race ! 
They arm them for to-morrow's fight, 'tis true, 
With much alacrity, and talk of conquelt, 
Carnage, and fpoils ; but for their fultan's name, 
The name of Mahomet, thro' all the camp 
I've fcarcely heard its found. Nay, once I heard it 
In accents harfh pronounc'd, but as to liften 
I nearer drew, my fteps the fpeaker fcar'd, 
And all was into fearful filence hufh'd. 
Their fultan's name ! — Pell feize the ftupid flaves ! 
O, Conftantine ! it is not thus thy foldiers 
Do arm themfelves for thee. 
Ho, Ofmir ! art thou near me ? 

osmir (advancing). 
Yes, my lord. 

MAHOMET. 

Haft thou been lift'ning too ? 
Bb 



5;o CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGtfS s 

OSMIR. 

Yes, fultan ; and I. find your Mufiulmert 
Their arms preparing for to-morrow's battle, 
Beneath your royal flandard mod determined 
To conquer or to die. 
They under your approving eye will fight, 
As in the funfhine of propitious heaven. 

MAHOMET. 

Yes, I am in their minds full truly grown 
A thing of gen'ral attributes compos'd — 
A heaven of funfhine or of lowering dorms : 
But as a man and leader, in whom live 
The mental and corporeal qualities 
Of Mahomet - Peft feize the ftupid flaves I 

Enter Petronius and Marthon, muffled up 
in cloaks. 
But who comes here ? twice on my rounds already 
Thofe men have crofs'd me: am I known to them? 
By the great Prophet they (hall bear their fecret 
Where fecrets are fecure ! — Ho ! flop flaves there ! 
Stop, in the fuhan's name ! (Running upon them fu- 
rioufly^ and lifting his fcimitar over the head 
of Petronius, who immediately dif covers him- 
Self-) 

petronius (difcovering himfelfj, 
Crufh not a worm, my lord. 

MAHOMET. 

A worm indeed 1 What treafon brings ye here,. 



A TRAGEDY. 371 

Sculking, thus muffled up in dark difguife ? 
Have I not warn'd ye both that ye do live 
Beneath mine iron power in ftri&eft faultleflhefs ? 
For that when ye are found but to tranfgrefs 
The galling limits of impofed duty 
Even a hair's breadth, there abideth you 
A recompence more dreadful than torn flaves, 
Writhing in horrid ecftafy, e'er knew. 
Beware : ye have no power to ferve me now, 
And unfuccefsful traitors are mod hateful. 



PETRONIUS. 

It is, great Mahomet, to make amends 
For unfuccefsful fervices, that here 
Thou find'ft us, on our way within the city 
To gain for thee fome ufeful information 
Againfl to-morrow's pufh. Still in our power 
Some little aid remains. 

MAHOMET, 

If thou fay 'ft true, return to me again, 
Leading thy beauteous daughter in thy hand, 
Ere two hours pafs, who fhall within my tent 
A pledge remain for thy fufpicious faith 
Until the city's ta'en. — Begone, I charge you, 
And anfwer not again. (Exeunt Petronius and 

Marthon. 
Are all mine orders iflued for the morrow ? 
To each refpe&ive officer aflign'd 
His talk and ftation? and my rearward troops, 
Mine axe and cord-men, they are not forgotten ? 
Bba 



372 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS 



OSMIR. 

No, pleafe your highnefs, nothing is forgotten. 
And by the early dawn — — (A mixture of confufed 
diftant founds heard from the city. J 

MAHOMET. 

What founds are thefe ? 

OSMIR. 

Hall: thou forgot we are fo near the city ? 
It is the murm'ring night-founds of her ftreets, 
"Which the foft breeze wafts to thine ear, thus foftly 
Mix'd with the chafings of the diftant waves. 

mahomet (eagerly). 
And let me liften too ! I love the found ! 
Like the lad whifpers of a dying enemy 
It comes to my pleased ear. (Lijlening.) 

Spent art thou, proud imperial queen of nations, 
And thy laft accents are upon the wind. 
Thou haft but one voice more to utter ; one 
Loud, frantic, terrible, and then art thou 
Amongft the nations heard no more. Lift ! lift ! 
I like it well ! the lion hears afar 
Th' approaching prey, and makes his bridling mane, 
And ladies with his tail his tawny fides, 
And fo hear I this city's nightly found. 

OSMIR. 

It is indeed a rich and noble conqueft 
Which heaven unto its favour'd warrior gives. 



A TRAGEDY. 373 

MAHOMET. 

Yes, Ofmir ; I fhall wear a conqu'ror's name, 
And other ages (hall of Mah'met fpeak, 
When thefe dumb flaves are crumbling in the dull. 
But now the night wears on, and with the dawn 
Mud the grand work begin. 
Yet one thing (till remains; I mud remind thee 
That to my gen'ral orders this be added : — 
Silent (hall be the march : nor drum, nor trump, 
Nor clam of arms, fhall to the watchful foe 
Our near approach betray : filent and foft, 
As the pard's velvet foot on Libya's fands, 
Slow Healing with crouch'd moulders on her prey. 

OSMIR. 

I have already given the ftri&eft orders. 

MAHOMET. 

Then all is well : go where thy duty calls. 
In the mean while I'll fnatch an hour of reft, 
And dream, perhaps, that lovely Grecian dames, 
Even with a crowned beauty in their band, 
Are lowly bent to kifs my purple feet. 

(A diftant bell heard from the city,) 
What deep and diftant bell is this which founds 
So folemnly on the ftill air of night? 

OSMIR. 

It comes from St. Sophia's lofty dome, 
Where Conftantine, with his fmall band of friends^ 
Bb 3 



374 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

As I have learnt, mould at this hour afiemble, 
To join together in religious rites 
Of foleran preparation for to-morrow, 
Which they regard as their laft day of life, 
And this as their laft act of fecial brotherhood. 

MAHOMET. 

Brave men ! do they fo meet ? (Paufing.) 

But it muft be. 
Why fhould it move me ? Heaven decrees their 

doom : 
I act by high commifhon, tho' for inftruments 
I have but thefe dumb flaves. (Exeunt. 



SCENE, II. A pillared aijle cr open ftace in the 
church of St. Sophia, with other parts of the church 
feen in perfpcclhe. The great bell heard. 

Enter Heugho, met by an inferior Prieft. 

PRIEST. 

Thou com'ft before thy mailer and his friends : 
How far are they behind ? 

HEUGHO. 

Not many paces. (Bell founds again. J 

PRIEST. 

Werefore did'ft thou ftart ? 



A T R A G E D Y. 375 

HEUGHO. 

It fmote mine ear mod ftrange and dolefully. 
Is there foul in its found which fadly fays, 
It is the laft bell that (hall Chriftians warn 
To holy rites within thefe fated walls ? 
How many hundred years this facred pavement 
Has with the tread of Chriftian feet been worn ! 
And now . . Heaven's will be done ! 



PRIEST. 

So muft we fay, if that our turn be come, 
We are a wicked and luxurious race, 
And we have pull'd this ruin on our heads. 



HEUGHO. 

But there are thofe who needs muft fall be- 
neath it, 
Whofe noble v/orth deferv'd a better fate. 



PRIEST. 

Think ye the grand aflault will be fo foon ? 

HEUGHO. 

'Tis fo believ'd : and fee where now they come, 
In gen'rous love and brotherhood united, 
Who (hall, perhaps, no more fee evening's clofe, 
Or under focial roof of living men 
E'er meet again. 

Bb 4 



3:6 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

PRIEST. 

Nay, do not weep, good Heugho ; 
For in that bleffed place they (hall be join'd 
Where great and good men meet. — But I mufl 

Kaile 
To give my brethren notice. (Exit. 

Enter Constantine, with Othus, Rodrigo, 
Justiniani, and others of his friends i who walk 
with folemn flops and bareheaded towards the 
front of the Jtage^ the great hell founding for the 
lafl time as they advance. Conftantine then flops , 
and flretching out his arm as if he wifhed to fpeak> 
they all gather refpcclfully round him. 



CONSTANTINE. 

My friends, there greatly prefies on my heart 
Somewhat I've much defir'd to fay to you. 
If a full heart will grant me fo much voice, 



OTHUS. 

Then fpeak it, royal fire, we all attend 
With ears of love and mofl profound refpecr. 



CONSTANTINE. 

Thus ftation'd on a dark and awful verge, 
In company with you, my noble friends, 
1 have defired, in this folemn act, 
To make my peace with God. But, on my foul, 



A TRAGEDY. 377 

If any un forgiven wrong to man 

Yet reds, how fhall I lift my hands to him 

Who has made all men, and who cares for all, 

As children of one grand and wond'rous houfe. 

Wherein the mightieft monarch of the earth 

Holds but a little nook ? 

1 have been one, plac'd on a giddy height 

Of feemihg greatnefs, 1 therefore liable, 

In nature's poor infirmity, to ads 

Of blind and foolifn pride. I have been one 

In much real feeblenefs, upheld, defended, 

By voluntary aid and gen'rous zeal 

Of valiant flrangers owing me no fervice. 

And therefore liable, in the mind's weaknefs, 

Its fad deft weaknefs, to ungrateful thoughts 

Tinchir'd with jealoufy. If towards you, 

My noble friends, I have contracted guilt, 

I truft — I know — I beg — what fhall I fay ? 

Your gen'rous hearts to all your deeds of love 

Will add a lad forgivenefs. 

OTHUS. 

O no, mod royal Condantine ! to us 
And to all men thou'fl ever worthy been, 
Noble and gracious ; pardon at our hands 
Thou needed none; 

OMNES. 

O no, thou needed none! 
As we to thee have faithful followers been, 
Thou' ft ever been to us a gen'rous lord. 



378 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS 



CONSTANTINE, 

Your love would make it fo : would that, in* 

deed, 
A voice within me feal'd its fair report ! 
Alas ! it doth not ; therefore now indulge me. 
If there be one amongft you, unto whom, 
With dark forbidding brow, in a (tern moment, 
I've given ungen'rous pain ; one whofe kincj 

fervice. 
I have with foolifh and capricious humours 
More irkfome made ; one whofe frank opennefs 
Of manly love, offer'd to me as man 
In gen'rous confidence, with heartlefs pride 
I coldly have repell'd ; yea, if there be 
One of you all that ever from my prefence 
I have with fadden'd heart unkindly fent, 
I here, in meek repentance, of him crave 
A brother's hand, in token of forgivenefs. 
And be it in true charity (IretchM forth, 
As to a man of much infirmity, 
Who has with many trials been befet, 
"Wounding oft-times in bitternefs of foul 
The love he mould have honour'd. 
What ! is there none that will to me hold out 
The palm of charity ? 

Then I'll embrace ye all, and, with eas'd heart, 
Believe myfeif forgiven. ( 'Embracing them all as 

they crowd affectionately to him^ and comin 

laji to Rodrigo.) 
And thou, my bold Rodrigo, who canft brave 



A TRAGEDY. 579 

The tempefts when they rage, and onward bear, 
With the oppofed ftrength of towering navies 
Black'ning before thee, com'fl thou to my breaty 
In foft forgiving love ? I know thou dofh 

RODRIGO. 

Ay, in that love that would forgive to thee 
The fum of all thy fins, tho' multiplied 
Ten thoufand thoufand fold.— 
That would do in thy fervice — O curfed limit ! 
That there mould be what to man's finew'd 

ftrength, 
In all the burning zeal of righteous boldnefs, 
Impoflible is. (Clenching his hands vehemently.) 

othus (to Rodrigo). 
Ceafe ! doit thou not refpect thefe holy walls ? 

RODRIGO. 

I do refpect them, Othus ; ne'er a head, 
Shorn to the fcalp, doth bow itfelf more humbly 
Before heaven's throne than mine, albeit in truth 
My words unfeemly are. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Come to my heart, my friend ! He reigns above 

Who will forgive us both. (Embraces Rodrigo, 

and then obferving Heugho, who has Jlood 

behind^ not prefuming to approach him with 

the rejl.j 

But there is one who ftands from me aloof 



3 3o CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSs 

With modefl backwardnefs, unto who.fe charity 
I mull be debtor alfo. Worthy Heugho, 
Since earlieft youth I from thy friendly hand 
Have daily kindly offices receiv'd, 
Proffer'd with love, exceeding far all duty 
Belonging to thy ftate ; yet, ne'erthelefs, 
I once, in a mod vile and fretful mood, 
Vex'd with crofs things, thine honour'd age for- 
got. 

HEUGHO. 

Oh, fay not fo, my dear and royal matter. 
It breaks my heart that you mould (till remember. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Well, well, be not thus mov'd, my worthy 
Heugho, 
I know I am forgiv'n ; but lay thy hand, 
Thine aged hand, upon thy mailer's head, 
And give him a lafl blefling. Thou art now 
Like to an ancient father with us grown, 
And my heart fays that it will do me good. 

(Bowing his head, whilft Heugho, lifting up 
bis aged hands over him, is unable to Jpeak, 
but bur/is into tears, and falls upon his maf- 
ter s neck. The band of friends clofe round 
and conceal them : afterwards they open to 
make way, and Conilantine comes forward 
with a firm enlightened countenance.) 
And now, my noble friends, it pleafes me 
To think we all are knit in holy bands 



A TRAGEDY. 381 

Of fellowfhip; prepar'd, in virtue's ftrength, 
Nobly to fight on earth, or meet in heaven. 

OTHUS. 

Yes, Conftantine, we to each other will 
True brothers prove, and to our noble chief 
Devoted followers, whate'er betide. 
What fay ye, valiant friends ? 

OMNES. 

All, all of us ! 

CONSTANTINE. 

I know you will, full well, I know you will. 
Oh, that in earth it had been granted me 
Your gen'rous love to've recompens'd ! alas ! 
Ye can but fhare with me 

OMNES. 

No other recompenfe, 
But fharing fates with thee, our noble chief, 
Do we defire, and on thy royal hand 
Here will we feal it. 

constantine (eagerly preventing them as they are 
about to kneel and kifs his hands). 
Forbear ! forbear ! within thefe facred walls 
Bend before worthlefs man the humble knee ! 
Fye, let not fuch fhame be ! 
Am I your chief? then be it fnewn in this, 
That to the mighty Majefty of heaven 



5 S2 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

I humbly bow, more lowly than ye all, 
And do, on your behalf, devoutly beg 
The bleffing of our Mafler and our Sire. 

(Kneeling and bowing his head very low to the 
ground, then rifing afterwards with dignified 
folemnity.) 
Now to thofe iacred rites of our bled faith, 
In which the humble foul ennobled bows, 
In mem'ry of the deareft brotherfhip 
That ever honour'd man, I lead you on, 
My noble brothers. (Exeunt Conflantine, EsV. h 
another ai/Je, which may be fuppofed to lead to 
the altar of the churchy whilfi fever al priefls 
are fee n at a diflance in their robes, as if 
waiting to receive them.) 



SCENE III. A Hall, or Anti-room in the Imperial 
Palace. 

Enter Petronius and Marthon difguifed* 

PETRONIUS. 

So far hath this well-counterfeited fignef, 
And this difguife, befriended us ; here flop : 
Whilft Conflantine and his mad band are abfenS 
On their religious ceremony, here * 

We will remain conceal'd until that Ella, 
Returning (for 'tis near her wonted time, 
As they have told us) from Valeria's chamber, 
Shall give us fair occafion. — Roufe thee, Marthon; 



A TRAGEDY. 383 

Thou feem'ft like one bereaved of all fenfe ; 
What is the matter with thee ? 



MARTHON. 

Nothing ; but thus to pafs with culprit feet 
Beneath the made of night, thefe well-known 

courts 
Which I fo oft have trod in front of day, 
With the firm footfteps of an honeil man, 
Doth make me 

PETRONIUS. 

Fye ! thou art become a fool. 
Shake off fuch weaknefs : we're cornpell'd to this. 
We fhall beneath the fultan's iron fway, 
Difgrac'd from the late failure of our plots, 
Live like lafh'd flaves, if the bewitching beauty 
Of my young Ella come not to our aid 
To bend his rugged nature. Strong in her, 
We mail not merely fafe protection find, 
But higheft favour and authority ; 
And tho' by flealth I needs mud bear her hence, 
Being my daughter, I, in nature's right < <■ 

MARTHON. 

Hufh ! now I hear a lightly-founding ftep. 
Draw back a little fpace. (They ftep afide, whilfi 
Ella enters, and walks acrofs theftage.) 

petronius (in a half voice, fteal'mgfoftly up to her. J 
Ella! 



384 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

ella (jlarting). 
What voice is that which names me ? 

PETRONIUS. 

Ella! 

ELLA. 

Oh ! 'tis the found that I mod dread to hear ! 

PETRONIUS. 

Say'ft thou fo, Ella, of thy father's voice ? 
Have my misfortunes, with the world's fair favour, 
Depriv'd me alfo of my only child ? 

ELLA. 

No, no ! they have not : had misfortune only 
Caft its dark (hade upon thee, I had lov'd thee 
And cherifh'd thee in a lone defert, father. 
But — but thou art 

PETRONIUS. 

Ha ! wherefore dofl thou paufe ? 
What would'fl thou fay? what is there in thy 
mind ? 

ELLA. 

Thoughts which I will not utter. — Oh, depart ! 
Thou'rt not in fafety. AH men do condemn thee. 
Thou art not come for good. — Oh, fly from hence! 
Ruin, and fhame, and death abide thee here : 
Oh, fly, my wretched father. 



A TRAGEDY. 3*5 

PETRONIUSi 

Yes, I will fly, but thou (halt go with me ; 
If not, I will remain and meet my fate. 

ELLA. 

Good heaven forbid ! thou'lt drive me to dif- 
tra&ion. 
O mifery ! (Wringing her hands in great dijirefs^ 
whiljl Marthon advances to Petronius with 
fupplicating look.) 

Petronius. 
Away ! thou art a fool : we mufl be firm. 

(To Marthon.) 
Wring not thy hands thus wildly, fimple maid : 
Thou goeft to be with me no wand'ring outlaw, 
But one in fplendour greater than a queen : 
The favour'd miftrefs of the mighty fultan. (ToElfo.) 
(Ella gives a loud Jhriek, and ftruggles to get 
from him.) 

Enter Rodrigo. 

RODRIGO. 

Audacious villain ! quit thy curfed hold, 
Or take death for thy pains. 
Ha ! thou fhrink'ft back, and muffleft up thy face. 
Say who thou art, or thro* thy villain's heart 
I'll thruft this rapier. 

Cc 



386 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

ella (pulling Rodrigo back), 

* Hold, I do befeech thee ! 
For pity, hold ! it is my wretched father. 

RODRIGO. 

Wretched indeed ! 

ELLA. 

Ay, therefore pity him. 
Let him efcape : he hath done me no harm. 
He is here as a fox in his laft wiles, 
Who fhelter feeks within the very kennel 
O' the rous'd pack : Oh, have fome pity on him ! 
He is my father. 

RODRIGO. 

Sweet Ella, hang not thus upon mine arm : 
It hath no power to flrike whom thou cairft father, 
Shame as he is unto that honour'd name. 
But there are ties upon me, gentle maid: 
The fafety and the interefls of Conftantine 
I am bound to defend : and fhall a traitor 

ELLA. 

Oh ! oh ! 

RODRIGO. 

Fear not : our royal mafter is return'd 
From blefled rites of holieft charity 
With meekly chaften'd foul : whate'er his crimes 
4 



A TRAGEDY. 387 

tie is in fafety — fafety as aiTured 
As thine own harmlefs felf. 

Enter Const antine. 

CONSTANTINE (to Rodrigo). 

Thou fpeak'ft with an unwonted earneftnefs ; 
I've mark'd thy geftures > foniething moves thee 

much. 
Who are thefe ft rangers ? (Turning to Petronius 
and Marthon, who, uncovering their faces , 
Jland confeffed before him, J 
Ha ! Marthon and Petronius ! What new treafon 
Is now on foot, that here— — -but judge I hardily ? 
Ye are, perhaps, ftruck with the circum fiances 
Of thefe moft folemn times, repentant grown, 
And if ye be, in a good hour ye come ; 
I am myfelf a wean'd and pardon'd man. 
Marthon, thou once wert wont to fpeak the truth j 
What brought ye hither ? 

MARTHON* 

Moft gracious prince, with no repentant mind 
We hither came ; but one of us, at leaft, 
Shall hence depart with a heart deeply fmitten* 

CONSTANTINE, 

Confefs then what new treafon ye devifed. 

•ELLA* 

No treafon ; none to thee, moft royal Conftan* 
tine. 

Cc 2 



388 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUSi 

For me he came, arm'd with a parent's right, 

To bear me to the haughty fultan*s camp, 

To live in queenly date. But, Oh protect me I 

Let me remain and die with thofe I love 

In decent maiden pride. Retain me here, 

But pardon him : no treafon brought him hither, 

CONSTANTINE. 

Petronius, has thy daughter told me true ; 
Was this thine errand ? 

petp.onius ("approaching Conftantine). 
Yes, moil gracious prince. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Off then, difgrace to nature and to manhood ! 
Would'ft thou to fhameful and degrading flavery 
Betray thy virtuous child ? Say thou cam'ft hither 
To thrufl P the dark thy dagger thro' my heart,. 
And I will call thee finlefs. 

PETRONIUS. 

, Wherefore this flern and bitter execration ? 
I came to place her but a few hours fooner, 
Sav'd from th' approaching ftorm, where your high 

dames, 
Yea, with their royal miftrefs at their head, 
Full fhortly fhall be placed. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Detefted wretch ! what fiend has whifper'd to 
thee 
Such hideous thoughts ? man durft not utter them. 



A TRAGEDY. 389 

PETROSITIS. 

Man might, at leaft, furveying the pofition 
And afpect of thefe times, in his own mind 
This plain and Ihrewd conjecture form. But not 
On fuch loofe bottom do I ground my words ; 
Mah'met himfelf hath fworn that your Valeria 
Shall at the head of his mod favour'd wives — «- 

CONSTANTINE. 

Hold thy detefted tongue ! for one word more 
Is inftant death. Tempt me not with thefe hands, 
Which hath the fymbols touch'd of blefled peace, 
To do a horrible acl. 

PETRONIUS. 

I but repeat that which the fultan hath 
In public faid. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Forbear ! forbear ! 1 tell thee. 
(Wrenching his /word, fcahbard and aii^ from 
his fide ', and t offing it from him,) 
There 1 there ! Rodrigo : cad it from my reach : 
Let not a weapon be within my grafp, 
Or I fhall be accurfed. (After a violent ftruggle of 

patfion.) 
J dare fpeak to him now. — Ho ! guards without ! 

ELLA. 

Oh, mercy ! mercy ! 

Cc 3 



590 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

Enter Guards. 

constantine (to Guards). 
Take thefe two men, Petronius and his friend, 
And thro' the city to our outmoft pod 
Conduct them fafely : there, in perfect liberty, 
Permit them to depart where'er they lift. 
(To Petronius.) Now, I'm revenged upon thee : get 

thee hence, 
And utter not a word. — Go thou, Rodrigo, 
And with the gentle Ella in thy hand, 
Conducl: them to the palace gate. Hence quickly! 

MARTHON. 

Nay, let Petronius go : I will remain, 
And with the meaneft foldier on your walls 
Spend my laft blood, if a true penitent 

constantine (waving him off impatiently). 
Well, be it as thou wilt: but hence and leave me! 

rodrigo (to Ella, as he leads her oat). 
Did I not tell thee he was fafe, my Ella ? 

(Exeunt all but Conftantine, who, after walk* 
ing up and down for fome time in a perturbed 
manner, Jlarts at the found of Valeria'.*- voice 
without,) 

CONSTANTINE. 

Ha ! here fhe comes ! alas ! how (hall I now 



A TRAGEDY. 391 

Look on her face, and hear her voice of love ! 
It is diffraction ! 

Enter Valeria. 

VALERIA. 

My Conftantine, art thou fo long return 5 d, 
And yet to me no kindly fummons fent, 
Long as I've watch'd for it ? — What is the matter ? 
Thy brow is dark : thefe are diflurbed looks : 
What is the matter ? 

CONSTANTINE. 

Nothing, nothing. 
I am, thou know'ft, with many cares perplex'd. 
Follow me to thine own apartment j here 
I cannot fpeak to thee. 

Valeria (afide, looking eagerly at him as, they go 
out J. 
What may this be ! (Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Valeria 5 / Apartment. 

Enter Constantine, followed by Valeria, who 
remain Jilent for fome time, jhe looking anxioujly 
with wiftful -expectation. 

VALERIA, 

Now we are here, my Lord, in the ftill privacy 
Of this my inmoft bower, but thou art filent. 

(Paufes, and he is ftill ft lent. J 
C C4 



392 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS ; 

There is a look of fadnefs on thy face 
Of difturb'd wretchednefs, that never yet, 
Ev*n in thy darkeft hours, I've feen thee wear : 
Why art thou thus ? 

CONSTANTINE. 

And doll thou afk ? I've been, in deep humility, 
Making a fmner's peace with God and man, 
And now and now — ■— (His voice faultering.) 

VALERIA. 

What would you fay, my lord ? 

CONSTANTINE. 

And now I am with thee. 

VALERIA. 

And art thou fad for this ? haft thou not (till, 
Loofe from all fhackles of impofed date, 
Been with me in thine hours of joy or grief, 
Like a way-faring man, who fitting down 
On the green bank, his cumb'rous veftment opens 
To the foft breeze ? 

CONSTANTINE, 

Yes, my Valeria ; I have been with thee 
As with a true yoke heart, fo flrong in love 
That ev'n the thought which fcudded o'er my 

mind 
With culprit's fpeed from fhameful confcioufnefs, 
Was not from thee conceai'd. 



A TRAGEDY. j 9 j 

But now the hour is come, when ev'n with thee 
I muft perform a talk — -a tafk of pain. 

VALERIA. 

Speak ; what mean'ft thou ? 

CONSTANTINE. 

All have, ev'n in the cleared intercourfe 
Of heart with heart, in fome untoward moment: 
Tranfgreflbrs been, and prov'd the caufe of pain 
Where mod they mould have banifh'd it : and all, 
In quitting earthly ties, do anxioufly 
Defire, in the true blefling of forgivenefs, 
To part with thofe whom they have held mofl dear. 
Now doft thou underftand me ? (Holding out both 

his hands to her. J 

VALERIA. 

I do i I do ! thou haft my deareft blefling. 
The deareft thoughts and worfhip of my heart. 
But oh ! what doft thou fay ? — part ! — how, my 

Conftantine ! 
\yhere doft thou go ? thou doft not leave the city? 

CONSTANTINE. 

No, love, but on its wall I go ere long, — 
For in a little hour the day will break 
Which muft its fate decide, — that part to acl, 
Which, before God and man, in honeft pride, 
I'm cali'd on to perform. 



39\ CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

VALERIA. 

But from thofe walls vi&orious thou'lt return. 

(Con{\L2Lntinef?nilesforrowfulIy.J 
Nay, but thou malt return: high heav'n decrees it; 
Virtue, and every good and blefled thing 
Have made it fure. Ev'n in a faith as flrong 
As at this moment I do hold to this, 
Methinks, upon the chaf'd and tofling waves 
Of the wild deep I could thus firmly tread, 
Nor wet my fandai's thong. (Walking acrofs the 
Jlage with firm ft eps of Jiately confidence, and 
then going up to him with an encouraging 
fmile.J 

Be thou affur'd ! 
I know it fhall be fo. A my flic fage, 
Whom I, unknown to thee, have vifited — 
Pardon this weaknefs of thine anxious wife — 
Darting his eye on forms of woven air, 
Saw thee in combat with a Turkifh champion, 
And faw the crefcent fall. 

CONSTANTINE. 

And may'ft thou not believe, that ere they clofe 
Their mortal warfare, many a boaflful Turk 
Beneath thefe arms fhall fall ? 

VALERIA. 

Ay, but on furer words I reft my faith I 
For I did bid him onward caft his eye 
Into time's reach, and fay, who of this city, 



A T R A G E D Y. 395 

After the courfe of twelve revolving moons, 
Should be the fov'reign lord ; and he replied, 
In plain and fimple words, thy lord and hufoand, 

CONSTANTINE, 

And nam'd he Conftantine ? 



VALERIA. 

What other name but that of Conftantine 
Could to thefe appellations be conjoin'd ? 
Thou turneft from me with perturbed looks : 
Thou (halt not turn away : tell me ! O, tell me ! 
What fudden thought is this that troubles thee ? 
(Catching hold of him eagerly as he turns from 
her. J 

CONSTANTINE. 

Afk not ; Oh, do not afk ! 'tis pafs'd already 
As moots a glaring meteor 'thwart the night, 
Frightful but hafty. 

VALERIA. 

Thou muft tell it me. 

CONSTANTINE. 

DiftraQ: me not. 

VALERIA. 

Nay, nay, but thou mud tell me. 
What other name but that of Conftantine 
Could to my lord and huftand joined be ? 



3?6 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

constantine (Jinking down upon a chair quit? over, 
come, and covering his face with his hands as he 
f peaks with a quick perturbed voice). 
Mahomet! Mahomet! 

(Valeria Jleps back from him, holding up her 
hands in amazement ; then he, after a paufe, 
looking up to her with a f elf upbraiding eye.) 
I have offended in this very hour 
When my prefs'd foul figh'd for that loving peace 
Which in its earthly clofe the foul defires. 
I have offended. 

VALERIA. 

Yes, thou haft offended. 
All the offences thou haft ever done me 
Are in this fell and cruel flroke compris'd ; 
And any other flroke, compared to this, 
Had falPn upon me lightly. 

CONSTANTINE. 

It was a thought that hafted faft away, 
And came unhidden. (Going up to her penitently. J 

Valeria (turning away in anger J. 
There is no thought doth ever crofs the mind 
Till fome preceding kindred fentiment 
Hath made a path- way for it. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Yes, my Valeria, thou indeed fay'fl true ; 



A TRAGEDY. 397 

But turn not from me angrily. My mind, 
Ere now, confider'd has the character, 
The faith, the power of Mahomet.-— Frown not.—- 
Valeria thou art fair. — Nay, do not frown ! 



VALERIA* 

What doft thou fay? haft thou until this mo- 
ment 
Referv'd for me this bafe degrading — — No : 
Torn and defaced be every hated form 
Of outward grace ! it is our curfe, our fhame ! 

C Tearing her hair violently. J 



CONSTANTINE* 

O be not thus ! — forgive a hafty thought ! 
Think how a doating hufband is diftra&ed, 
Who knows too well a lawlefs victor's power. 



VALERIA. 

What is his power ? it naught regardeth me. 



CONSTANTINE. 

Alas ! the frowns of a detefting bride 
Deter him not ! 



Valeria Cfmiling contemptuoujlyj. 
But will he wed the dead ? 



589 CONSTANTINE .PALEOLOGUS : 

cons tan tine (Jlarting). 
What fay'ft thou ? Oh, what meaning is there: 
here ! 
Yes, yes ! I know it all ! but it is dreadful : 
It makes the cold chill o'er my limbs to creep : 
It is not well : it is not holy. No ! 
O no, my noble love, mine honour'd love ! 
Give to thy fallen lord all that the foul 
To widow'd love may give, but oh flop there ? 
Heav'n will protect thee in the hour of need ; 
And for the reft, erafe it from thy thoughts, 
Give it no being there. 

VALERIA. 

It hath no being there. Heav'n will protect me? 
And he who thinks me helplefs thinks me mean. 

CONSTANTINE. 

1 think thee all that e'er was tenanted 
Of nobleft worth in lovelieft female form : 
By nature excellent, defective only 
In this, that fortune has thy virtues link'd 
To the vex'd fpirit of a ruin'd man, 
Who in his hours of anguifh has not priz'd them 
As did become their worth. 

Valeria (rujhing into his arms J* 
No, thou haft priz'd them, 
In thy blind love, far, far beyond their worth.- 



A TRAGEDY. 399 

My uncurb'd paflions have, alas ! too oft 
Vexation added to that burden'd heart 
I fhould have cheer'd and lighten' d : on my head 
Reds all the blame that e'er between us pafs'd, 
And I alone have need to be forgiven. 

(They weep on one another's necks without fpeak- 
ingi when an alarm bell is heard at a di/lance, 
and Conftantine breaks fuddenly from her.) 



CONSTANTINE. 

It is the 'larum of my farther watch. 

VALERIA. 

1 fcarcely heard it : art thou fure of it ? 

(A fecond alarm bell heard nearer.) 

CONSTANTINE. 

And hark ! a nearer tower repeats the found. 
The enemy's in motion. — I muft arm, 
And inflantly. 

VALERIA. 

Then let me be with thee till the lad moment. 
I have a holy relick of great power ; 
It is, I truft, worth all thine arms befide ; 
And from this hand of love thou flialt receive it. 

constantine (fmiling for rowf idly. ) 
Thanks, fweet Valeria ! from thy hand of love 



4co CONSTANTINE PALEGLOGUS : 

I will with love receive whate'er thou wilt. 

(A third alarm bell is beard JIM fonder, arid 
enter Attendants in hafie.) 
Yes, yes, I heard it \ go, prepare mine arms. 

(To Attendants, and exeunt. 

SCENE V. Afpacious Hall in the Palace. 

Enter Rod rig o, with Ella hanging fondly upon 
him, and continue their way as if intending to pafs 
through it, when a trumpet founds without, and they^ 
flop Jhort. 

P.ODRIGO. 

It is the found that fummons us to meet : 
There is no farther grace : therefore, fweet Ella, 
My pretty Ella, my good loving Ella, 
My gentle little one that hang'ft upon me 
With fuch fond hold, in good footh we mull part, 
Here bid heav'n blefs me, and no farther go. 

ELLA. 

Mull it be fo ? I will bid heaven blefs thee, 
And all good faints watch o'er thy precious life ; 
And they will blefs and guard thee in the hour 
Of fearful death. In this I have true faith ; 
Yet, on the very brink, to hold thee thus 
Clafp'd in my grafp, and think how foon — Alas I 
From many points will fly the whizzing balls, 
And fhowering darts, and jav'lins fent afar, 
Aim'd by fell flrength ; wilt thou efcape all this r 



A TRAGEDY. 40 1 

RODRIGO. 

Fear not, fweet Ella ! whizzing balls there be 
That, in midway, are from their courfe declhVd 
By the poor orphan's little lifped prayer ; 
And there be arrows that are turn'd afide, 
In their fwift flight, by the foft fighs of love, 
Unheard of earthly ears. This is a creed, 
In the good faith of which poor feamen climb 
Their rocking mads, in the full roar of battle^ 
And w*'ll believe it. 

ELLA. 

It is a blefled one : I would believe it. 

RODRIGO. 

Yes, we'll believe it. Whilft our battle roars$ 
Thou'lt think of me in thy lone diftant tower, 
And be to me a gallant armed mate, 
With prayers and wifhes driving powerfully. 
Give me thy hand : we will not weep and wail : 
We will part cheerfully. — God blefs thee, Ella ! 
Nay, hang not on me thus. 
Thou lov'ft a brave man : be thou valiant then, 
As fuits a brave man's love. 

ELLA. 

O no ! I've fondly fix'd -myfelf upon thee, 
Mod worthlefs and unfuited to thy worth. 
Like a poor weed on fome proud turret's brow* 
I wave, and nod, and kifs the air around thee, 
But cannot be like thee. 

Dd 



4°2 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS.- 

RODRIGO. 

Heav'n blefs thee, little flower! I prize thee more 
Than all the pride of female ftatelinefs, 

ELLA. 

Dofl thou ? then I am happy : I am proud i 
I will not wifli me other than I am. 



RODRIGO. 

Ah, if we part not inftantly, my Ella, 
I feel in faith, rude as my nature is, 
I foon mail be like thee ! — My friends approach \ 
Let us not meet their gaze — It mud be fo — 
Sweet one, farewel ! — Wilt thou ftill cling to me ? 



ELLA. 

O no, I go : they fhall not fee thee weep, 
Tho' I do blefs thee for it* 



rodrigo (leading her haftily back to the door by 
which they entered). 
Well then, brave lafs, upon thy lovely head 
Heaven's favour reft ! — Nay, do not fpeak to me. 

(Preventing her as floe is endeavouring to fpeak.) 

Farewel ! farewel ! (Exit Ella, and he returns to 

the front of the f age, where he Jlands mufing 

forrowfully ; when enters fo him Juftiniani, 

and, going up to him, touches his jhoulder.) 

What doft thou want ? (Turning angrily. J 






A TRAGEDY. 403 



JUSTINIANI* 

Thou'rt thoughtful. 

RODRIGO. 

No, I think as others do 
With fuch day's work before them, in good truth, 
Not pafling merrily. 

JUSTINIANI. 

From the high tower I've feen th* approaching 
foe : 
It feems a dark and ftrangely-mixed mafs 
Of life, wide moving in the mifty light 
Of early dawn. — I've fought in many a field, 
As valiant men and armed warriors fight, 
But fuch a ftrange aflemblage of new modes 
Of mingled war as we this day muft face, 
I never yet encounter'd. 

RODRIGO. 

Well, we mail know the fcent and flavour of it 
When we have tafted it. 

JUSTINIANI. 

We (hall be fmother'd up with the mean prefs 
Of worthlefs matter, as a noble fteed, 
Beneath the falling rafters of his (hed 
Ignobly perifhes. 

RODRIGO. 

Fear not, proud foul; we mall have men to fight^ 
Dd2 



4c 4 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

And room enough in fome nook of the breach 
To grapple with them too. 

JUSTINIANI. 

Good fortune ever (hone on thee, Rodrigo : 
Thou ftiil haft been a bold careering bark, 
Outriding ev'ry ftorm. If thou fhouldft e*er 
Again return to our dear native land, 
Tell to my countrymen whate'er thou know'ft 
Pertaining to my fate this fateful day : 
Let me not be forgotten. 

HODRIGO. 

I will, my friend : but better fate than thine 
I look not for, tho* dill I bear myfelf 
As one afiur'd of good.— -Thou'rt dark and 

gloomy — 
Does aught reit on thy mind ? 

justiniani fjl riding away from him gloomily J. 
No, nothing, nothing ! ( A trumpet found:- 

without.y 

RODRIGO. 

Ay, hark, another of our gallant band 
Has join'd us with his followers. 

(Another trumpet founds.) 
And now another : are they all aflembled ? 

Enter Othus, and fever al of the imperial Friends. 

OTHUS. 

On their high wooden turrets, and huge beams 



A TRAGEDY. 40$ 

Of warlike engines, rais'd aloft in air, 
Gleams the firft light of this high-fated day ; 
And, wide expanded, thro* the farther mills 
Moves the dark Turkifh ho ft. 
Thou'rt a tried foul, Rodrigo, I but new 
To fuch tremendous, ftrange expe&ancy : 
Now is the hour when the foul knows itfelf. 

(Rifing on tiptoe with a conf clous f mile,) 

RODRIGO. 

Ay, Othus, thou doft wear the countenance 
Of a true man : give me thine honed hand. 
Are all our friends aflembled ? (Trumpet founds,) 

OTHUS. 

This fays they are : and here comes, laft of all, 
Our northern friends. 

Enter more of the Friends. 

5tfow we are all aflembled. Conftantine, 
He alfo comes ; and fadly by his fide, 
In mournful dignity, moves his high dame, 
Proudly contending with her woman's heart. 

Enter Constantine and Valeria, attended. 

constantine (returning the general falute of the 
chiefs). 
Good morrow, noble brothers and brave leaders : 
Are we all here conven'd ? 
Dd 3 



4o6 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS 



OTHUS. 

Yes, qur great chief and brother : of your friends 
There lacks not one. 



CONSTANTINE. 

Then to their love, fo help me, Mighty Power, 
Who hold'ft within thy grafp the fouls of men ! 

Neither {hall we be lacking. Now, Valeria. 

(Drawing himfelf up with a proud but tender 
/mile, as if to encourage her to behave nobly.) 

VALERIA. 

I underftand that fmile. 
Here with thy gen'rous friends, whofe love to thee 
Mod dearly celled in my heart I wear, 
And unto whom I have defired much, 
Before we part, thefe grateful thanks to pay — 

(Making greatful obeifance to the chiefs.) 
Here to thofe noble friends, and to God's keeping, 
I leave thee. — — Yet, be it permitted me — 
For that thy noble head and lib'rai brow 
Have ever cheer'd me as my ftar of day, 
Bleflings and bleflings let me pour upon them ! 

(Putting her hand upon his head fervently ', and 
kijfing his forehead. J 
For that thy gen'rous bread has been the hold 
Of ail my treafur'd wifhes and dear thoughts, 
This fond embrace. (Embracing hin\.) 

Yea, and for that thou art 



A TRAGEDY, 407 

My fire, and fov'reign, and mod honoured lord, 
This humble homage of my heart receive. 

C Kneeling and kifling his band. J 

const antine (raifing and embracing her with great 
emotion). 
No more, my deareft and moft noble love ! 
Spare me, O fpare me ! Heaven be thy protection ! 
Farewel ! 

VALERIA. 

Farewel ! (Valeria is led off by her Attendants, 
whilft Conftantine continues looking fadly 
after her for fome time, then turning to his 
friends , who gather about him, without faying 
a word, they go all off the fl age together in 
profound Jilente.) 



£ND OF THE FOURTH ACT, 



Dd 4 



4*S GONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS 



ACT V. 

SCENE I. An open /pace near the walls of the 
city, with half-ruin* d houfes on each fide, and a row 
of arched pillars thrown acrofs the middle of the 
Jlage, as if it were the remains offome ruined public 
building; thro' which is feen, in the back-ground^ 
a breach in the walls, and the confufed fghting of 
the bejieged, enveloped in clouds of fmcke and duft. 
The noife of artillery, the battering of engines, and 
the cries of the combatants heard as the curtain 
draws up, and many people difcovered on the front 
of theflage, running about in great hurry end con- 
fufion, andfome mounted upon the roofs of the houfes 
overlook'mg the battle. 

voice (calling from the wall). 

See ! fee ! how, clutter' d on each other's backs, 
They mount like fwarming bees, or locufts link'd 
In bolt'ring heaps ! Pour fire upon their heads ! 

SECOND VOICE. 

Caft down huge beams upon them ! 

THIRD VOICE. 

flurl down the loofen'd fragments of our wall ! 



A TRAGEDY. 409 

FOURTH VOICE. 

Ho ! more help here ! more Hones ! more beams ! 
more fire ! 
Weapons are ufelefs now.. 

FIRST VOICE, 

See how that giant Turk, like an arch fiend, 
Climbs on yon living mountain of curv'd backs ! 
He gains the wall ! O hurl him headlong down ! 
He is huriy down! ( 'A great fhoui from the befieged. ) 

SECOND VOICE. 

Send to the emperor or to Rodrigo : 
They on their difPrent ftations hold it bravely ; 
This is the weaken: point. Ho ! fend for aid ! 

f Exeunt feveralfoldiers from the walls as if rim- 
ing for fuccour. The noife of artillery, &c. 
is heard as before, and afterwards a loud 
craJJj as offome building falling. Enter many 
people in great terror from the walls, running 
off by the front of the flage different ways,. and 
enter at the fame time, Constantine and 
fome of his friends, who flop them.) 

.constantine. 
Turn, turn ! O turn, my friends ! another pufli 1 
Let us flill flop the breach, or fall like men. 

(Enter JusTiNiANi/raw the walls with a hafly 
and diforderedftep, pale and writhing with 
pflin.) 



4i.o CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

Merciful heav'n ! do mine eyes ferve me truly ? 

Juftiniani, with pale haggard face, 

Retiring from his poft ! 

Where are you going, chief? (Stopping himjlernly.) 

JUSTINIAN!. 

Where nature, urg'd beyond the pith of nature, 
Compels me. Midft yon dreams of liquid fires, 
And hurling ruins and o'erwhelming mafs 
Of things unknown, unfeen, uncalculable, 
All arms and occupation of a foldier 
Are loft and turn'd to naught : man's flrength is 

naught : 
The fangs of hell are in my new-torn flefh ; 
I muft on for a fpace and breathe frefh air, 

CONSTANTINE. 

Go to ! this moment is the quiv'ring ridge 
That ftands between our fuccefs or our ruin : — 
The fight of thy turn'd back from their fcrew'd 

pitch 
Will turn more hearts than all the prefling foe : 
Thou muft not go. 

JUSTINIANI. 

I am a mortal man : 
The fangs of fiends are in my new- torn flefh : 
Nature compels me, and I muft have fuccour. 

(Exit hajlily^ and writhing with pain,) 

CONSTANTINE. 

Alas ! God pity him ! one lucklefs moment 



A TRAGEDY. 4*1 

OF weaknefs and of anguifh brings to him 
A wound that cannot be up-bound. Poor nature : 
(Enter many fugitives from the walls .J 
Turn, turn, O foldiers ! let not this fhame be. 

(To the fugitives.) 

(As he is endeavouring with his friends to rally 

them and pujh forward, a terrible fhout is 

heard, and enter a great crowd of fugitives 

from the zvalls.J 

What fhout was that ? 

FUGITIVE. 

The Turks have gain'd the breach, and thro/ it 
pour 
£,ike an o'erboiling flood. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Then is the city loft — -the dark hour come— 
And as an emperor my talk is clos'd. 
God's will be done ! (Throwing away the imperial 

purple.) 
Now is there left for me thefe finew'd arms, 
iind this good fword, the wherewithal to earn 
A noble foldier's death. 
Come on with me who will, and fhare the fate 
Of a brave comrade. 

a fugitive (joined by feveral others). 
Yes, we'll fhare thy fate, 
Comrade or fov'reign, noble Conftantine ! 
We will die by thy fide. (Exit Conftantine,/^ 



4i2 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

lowed by his friends and fever al of the fugi- 
tives, and pajftng through the pillars to the 
back-ground, rujhes amidjl the confufion of the 
fight, A terrible noife of arms, &c. and pre- 
fently one of the pillars in the middle of the ft age 
falling down, a wider view of the battle is 
opened, and the Turks arefeen rujhing through 
the breach, and bearing every thing before 
them.) 

\ Re-enter Const antine wounded, but ftill fighting 
bravely, though oppreffed with numbers, and falls 
down near the front of the ft age, the enemy pajjing 
on and leaving him. 

CONSTANTINE. 

Am I then left ! 
Oh, is there ne'er a Chriftian foldier near me 
That will cut off my head ? Ho ! thou Turk there [ 
(To a Turk who is going to pafs him.) 

TURK. 

Art thou not dead ? 

CONSTANTINE. 

No, one half of me, Turk, is living ftill, 
(Raiftng him] elf half up from the ground.) 
And ftill a match for thee, 

/*' TURK, 

Ha ! fay'ft thou fo ? we'll put it to the proof. 



A T R A G E D Y. 415 

Yet thou'rt a brave man, tho* thou art a Greek, 
I would far rather let thee die in peace. 



CONSTANTINE. 

No, no ! have at thee ! (pujhing at the Turk with 
his /word, who turning againfi him as he is 
half raifed from the ground, thrufts him 
through the body.) 

I thank thee, friendly foe-man, this will do : 

Thou haft done me good fervice. 



TURK. 

And thou art welcome to it. Fare thee well ! 
A good death to thee ! for thou art no Greek. 

(Exit, 

v CONSTANTINE. 

Ay, this will do : this hath the true item gripe 
Of potent fpeedy death. My talk is clofed. 
I now put off thefe weeds of flefh and blood, 
And, thanks be unto him who cloth'd me in them! 
Untarnifh'd with difgrace. What cometh after 

Full furely cometh well. *Tis a dark pafs. 

(Catching at a dropt garment that has been left 
by fome of the fugitives on the ground near 
him. J 
Here is a ready fhrowd to wrap my head : 
This death deals fhrewdly with me. (Covers his 
face and dies, after a confiderablejlruggle.) 
4 



414 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

Enter Rodrigo, Othus, and Marthon, with 
two or three of their followers •> fighting bravely with 
a party of Turks ^ whom they beat off the ft age* 

OTHUS. 

Now for a fpace thofe ruffians ftand aloof: 
This is a paufe that calls upon the mind : 
What fhall we do ? 



RODRIGO. 

What do men do, when they together /land, 
On the lad perch of the fwift-finking wreck ? 
Do they not bravely give their parting cheer, 
And make their laft voice loud and boldly found 
Amidft the hollow roarings of the ftorm ? 
Ev'n fo will we : we'll bear our manhood up 
To the laft pulh. 



OTHUS. 

Thou fpeakeit well, brave feaman : thou dofl 
fpeak 
What the heart owns : we will do even fo. 
But Oh, that our brave leader now were near us, 
Living or dead ! Doth no one know his fate ? 
I thought by him t' have died. 

FIRST FOLLOWER. 

What corpfe is this fo cover'd ? on its fandal 
It wears th' imperial bird in fretted gold. 






A TRAGEDY. 415 

OTHUS. 

Then it is he ! (Tearing off the covering eagerly 
from the head of Conftantine.) 
O thou brave heart ! thou haft: got to thy reft 
With honour : heav'n be praifed that thou haft ! 
Here round thee our laft gathering point fhall be : 
Here will we fight, nor fhall thy honour'd body 
Suffer, whilft one of us has ftrength to fight, 
The flighted infult. 

RODRIGO. 

Ay, they fhall hack us into raven's meat, 
Ere on his gallant corpfe there be imprefs'd 
One touch of impious hands ! ( A loud nolfe of 
fhri eking and terror heard without. J 

OTHUS. 

Hear the wild cries of terror and defpair, 
Mix'd with the din of carnage! Now thofe 

cowards, 
Who let this brave man all unaided perifh, 
Are fufFring that which, in his felleft pinch, 
The valiant never fuffers. 
But fee, the enemy again returns 
With doubled fury ! 

RODRIGO. 

Come they? then we are ready for them. Yonder 
Stands a fmall walled dome, within whofe portal 
We for a time may face ten thoufand foes : 

5' 



4i5 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS °. 

There will we take our ft and, and there will we 
Do our lafl deeds of men. Come on, brave mates ! 
Take op our honour' d treafure ; and, fo burden'd, 
He that doth grapple with us had as lief 
Pull from the lion's hug his bofom'd whelp. 

(The followers take up the body, and Othus 
and Rodrigo retire, defending it bravely from 
a party of Turks , who enter and fall upon 
them as they are bearing it off.) 

SCENE II. An apart ?nent in one of the towers of 
the palace. 

Enter Valeria in great alarm, followed by Lucia 
and Attendants. 

VALERIA. 

Louder and louder flill the dreadful found 

Of battle fwells. Is it not nearer us ? 

This lofty tower the widefl view commands ; 

Open that lattice quickly. (Pointing to a window 
which Lucia opens, and then, ruflnng on ea- 
gerly to look,fhrinks back again.) 

I pray thee look thyfelf, mine eyes are dark, 

And I fee nothing. Oh, what fee'ft thou ? 

Tell me whate'er it be. 

lucia (looking out). 
Nothing but clouds of fmoke and eddying duft : 
A dun and grumly darknefs fpreads o'er all, 
From which arife thofe horrid founds, but naught 
Diftin&ive of the fight can I difcern. 



A TRAGEDY. 417 

Valeria (after pacing backward and forward with 
an unequal, rejilefs, agitated fiep ) '. 
Oh, will this ftate of toiling agony- 
No termination have ! Send out, I pray thee, 
Another meffenger. 

LUCIA. 

Indeed I have in little fpace of time 
Sent many forth, but none return again. 

VALERIA. 

In little fpace ! Oh it hath been a term 
Of horrible length ! fuch as rack'd fiends do reckon 
Upon their tolling beds of furgy flames, 
Told by the lafhes of each burning tide 
That o'er them breaks. — Hark ! the quick ftep of 

ont 
With tidings fraught ! Doft thou not hear it ? 

LUCIA. 

No; 
I hear it not. 

VALERIA. 

Still is it the falfe coinage of my fears ? 
Ah ! hearing, fight, and every fenfe is now 
Falfe and deceitful grown. — I'll fit me down, 
And think no more but let the black hour pafs 
In ftill and fixed flupor o'er my head. ( Sits Sown 
upon a low feat, andfupports her bended head 
upon both her hands.) 
Ee 



4i.8 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS i 

lucia (lifiening). 

Now I do hear the found of real feet 
proaching. 

Valeria (Jlarting Up). 
Some one brings us tidings. 
What may they be ? Quick fteps mould bring us 
good. 

Enter Messenger. 

Say all thou haft to fay, and fay it quickly. 
If it be good hold up thy blefled hand, 
And I will blefs the token. — No, thou doft not ! 
*Tis evil then. — How is it with my lord ? 
What dangers (till encompafs him ? 

MESSENGER. 

No dangers. 

VALERIA. 

And doft thou fay fo with that terrible look ? 
Is he alive ? Have all deferted him ? 

MESSENGER. 

No, round his body ftill fome brave men fight, 
And will not quit him till they be as he is. 

(Valeria, uttering a loud Jhriek, fails back lnt9 
the arms of her attendants, and is carried tff i 
followed by Lucia and the MeiTenger.) 



A T RAGED Y. 4 r 9 

SCENE III. A hall in the palace. 

Enter a Crowd cf frightened Women, and fee m harry* 
ing on to fome place of greater fecurity. 

FIRST WOMAN (flopping)* 

No, we are wrong ; we'll to the eadern tower. 
That is the mod retir'd ; that lad of all 
Will tempt their fearcrn 

SECOND WOMAN. 

In the deep vaulted caverns of the palace, 
Might we not for a while conceal'd remain, 
Till heav'n fhall fend us means ? 

OMNES. 

Ay, thou art right ; that is the bed of all : 
We'll to the vaults. (As they are all turning a?id 
hurrying back again, enter a domefiic Officer of 
the palace, and flops them,) 

OFFICER. 

Where do you run with fuch wild looks of fear? 
Think ye the Turks are palling thro' the city, 
Like the fhort vifit of a fummer's dorm. 
That you in holes and rocks may fafely hide 
Until it be o'erblown ? 

FIRST WOMAN. 

Oh, no ! we know that they are come for ever ! 
Yet for a little while we fain would fave us 
From fearful things. 

E e 2 



4 2o CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

OFFICER. 

I come to tell you that by Mah'met's orders 
The cruel Turks have ftopp'd their bloody work, 
And peace again is in our walls. 

FIRST WOMAN. 

Say'ft thou ? 
And art thou fure of this ? and haft thou feen it ? 

officer. 
Yes, I have feen it. Like a fudden gleam 
Of fierce returning light at the florm's clofe, 
Glancing on horrid fights of wafle and forrow, 
Came the fwift word of peace, and to the eye 
Gave confcioufnefs of that which the wild uproar 
And dire confufion of the carnage hid. 

first woman. 
Alas ! be there fuch fights within our walls ? 

officer. 
Yes, maid, fach fights of blood 1 fuch fights of 
nature ! 
In expectation of their horrid fate, 
Widows, and childlefs parents, and 'lorn dames, 
Sat by their unwept dead with fixed gaze, 
In horrible flillnefs. 

But when the voice of grace was heard aloud, 
So flrongly ftirr'd within their roufed fouls 
The love of life, that, even amidft thofe horrors, 



A T RAGED Y. 421 

A joy was feen — joy hateful and unlovely. 

I faw an aged man rife from an heap 

Of grizly dead, whereon, new murder'd, lay 

His fons and grandfons, yea, the very babe 

Whofe cradle he had rock'd with palfied hands, 

And (hake his grey locks at the found of life 

With animation wild and horrible. 

I faw a mother with her murder'd infant 

Still in her arms fad lock'd, fpring from the 

ground — 
No, no ! I faw it not ! I faw it not ! 
It was a hideous fancy of my mind : 
I have not feen it. 
But I forget my chiefeft errand here. 

FIRST WOMAN. 

And what is that ? 

OFFICER. 

It is to bid you tell your royal miflrefs, 
It may, perhaps, fomewhat afluage her grief, 
That Othus and Rodrigo, with fome followers, 
The lad remains of the imperial band, 
Fighting, in all the ftrength of defperation, 
Around the body of their fallen chief, 
Have mov'd to gen'rous thoughts the fultan's breaft; 
Who has their valour honour'd with full leave, 
In bleifed ground, with military pomp, 
Becoming his high (late and valiant worth, 
To lay his dear remains. This with their lives 
On honourable terms he freely grants. 
Ee 3 



422 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

FIRST WOMAN. 

And do thofe brave men live ? 

OFFICER. 

They do ; but Qthus foon I fear will be 
With him he mourns.— Delay no more, I pray 3 
Inform the emprefs fpeedily of this. 

FIRST WOMAN. 

Alas ! me is not in a ftate to hear it : 
The phrenzy of her grief repels all comfort. — 
But foftly! — hum !— methinks I hear her voice, 
She's coming hither in the reftlefs wand'rings 
Of her untamed mind. — Stand we afide, 
And fpeak not to her yet. 

Enter Valeria with her hair dijhevelled, and in all 
the wild diforder of violent forrcw, followed by 
Ella and Lucia, whofeem endeavouring to foot he 
her. 

VALERIA. 

Forbear all words, and follow me no more. 
1 now am free to wander where I lift ; 
To howl i* the defert with the midnight winds. 
And fearlefs be amidfl all fearful things. 
The ft'prm has been with me, and I am left 
Torn and uprooted, and laid in the dufl 
With thofe whom after-blafts rend not again. 
I am in the dark gulf where no light is. 
I am on the deep bed of funken floods, 



A T RAGED Y. 423 

d welt'ring billows rife no 111 
fo bear the toffed wreck back to the ft rand. 



Whofe fwoln and welt'ring billows rife no more 



LUCIA. 

Oh, fay not fo ! heav'n doth in its good time 
Send confolation to the (harped woe. 
It (till in kindnefs fends to the tried foul 
Its keened fuff'rings. So fay holy men ; 
And therein good men trull. 

VALERIA. 

I hear, I hear thee ! in mine ear thy voice 
Sounds like the feeble night-fly's humming noife 
To him, who in the warfare of vex'd fleep, 
Strives with the phantoms of his inward world. 
Yes, there be comfort when the fun is dark, 
And time, hath run his courfe, and the flill'd fleepers 
Lift up their heads at the tremendous crafh 
Of breaking worlds. — I know all this. — But here, 
Upon this living earth, what is there found ? 
It is a place of groans and hopelefs woe. 
Let me then tear my hair and wring my hands,, 
And raife my voice of anguifh and defpair, 
This is my portion now, all elfe is gone, 

LUCIA.- 

Nay, think not virtuous innocence forfaken : 
Put in high heav'n thy truft, it will fuflain thee. 

VALERIA. 

Ah ! I did think when virtue bravely flood, 
E e 4 



424 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

Fronting its valiant bread to the fierce onfet 

Of worthlefs power, that it full furely flood : 

That ev'ry fpiritual and righteous power 

Was on its fide : and in this faith, oftimes, 

Methought I could into the furnace mouth 

Have thruft my hand, and grafp'd the molten flames. 

Yet on his head it fell : that noble head, 

Upon whofe manly gracefulnefs was fix'd 

The gaze of ev'ry eye. 

Oh ! on his lib'ral front there beam'd a look, 

Unto the which all good and gen'rous hearts 

Anfwer return'd. — It was a gentle head, 

Bending in pleafant kindlinefs to all ; 

So that the timid, who approach'd him trembling, 

With cheer' d and vaunting fleps retir'd again. 

It was a crowned head, yet was it left 

Expos'd and fencelefs in the hour of danger : 

What fhould have been his fafety was his bane. 

Away, poor inock'ry of a wretched ftate ! 

(Tearing the regal ornaments from her neck, and 
fcattering them about. J 
Be ye ftrew'd to the winds ! But for this let 
We had been blefl ; for he as truly loved, 
In fimplefl tendernefs, as the poor hind, 
Who takes his humble houfe-mate by the hand, 
And fays, " this is my all." — Off, curfed band ! 
Which round our happinefs hath been entwin'd 
Like to a flraggling cord : upon the earth 
Be thou defae'd and trampled ! (Tearing the tiara 
from her head, and Jlamping upon it, then 
pacing up and down dijiracledly.j 



A TRAGEDY. 475 

LUCIA. 

Alas ! my royal miftrefs, be intreated 1 
This furious grief will but enhance its pain : 
Oh, bear yourfelf as more becomes your (late ! 

VALERIA. 

Yes, I will bear me as becomes my flate. 
I am a thing of wretchednefs and ruin. 
That upon which my pride and being grew 
Lies in the duft, and be the duft my bed. 

(Throwing herf elf upon the ground, andpujhing 

away Lucia and her other Attendants, who 

endeavour to raife her up again.) 
Forbear ! forbear ! and let me on the ground 
Spread out my wretched hands. It pleafes me 
To think that in its bread there is a reft — 
Yea, there lie they, unheeded and forgotten, 
To whom all tongues give praife, all hearts give 

blefling. 
Oh, ev'ry heart did blefs him tho' he fell, 
And ne'er a faving hand was found — Oh ! oh ! 

(Burfiing into an agony of grief , and laying her 

head upon the ground, covered with both her 

hands. J 

ella (to Lucia and Attendants). 
Do not furround her thus ! Til fit and watch her. 
I will not fpeak, but fit and weep by her ; 
And fhe mall feel, ev'n thro' her heavy woe, 
That fympathy and kindnefs are befide her. 



426 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

Valeria (raifing her head). 
There fpoke a gentle voice : is Ella near me ? 

ELLA. 

Yes, I am near, and mail be ever near you. 

VALERIA. 

Wilt thou ? I do believe, fweet maid, thou wilt. 
Lay thy foft hand on mine. — Yes, it feels kindly. 
Had he, thy valiant love, been near his lord — 
Ay, they did love each other with that love 
Which brave men know — Oh, ev'ry noble flranger, 
in admiration of his noble worth, 
Did call him lord ; whilft they, his native fubjects, 
They who had feen him grow within their walls, — 
Alas ! where lightly tripp'd his infant fteps ; 
Where in gay fports his ftripling's ftrength was 

tried ; 
Where tower'd in graceful pride his manly bloom ; 
Even there a lifelefs, ghaflly form he lies. 

Enter another Domejlic Officer, and feeing Va- 
leria on the groimd Jieps back, 

lucia (to the Officer). 
What would'il thou here ? 

OFFICER. 

I muff, perforce, fpeak my unwelcome tidings* 
The fultan is already in the palace, 
And follows hard my fteps with a fix'd purpofe 
To fee the emprefs. 



A TRAGEDY. 427 

Valeria (raifing herfelf half from the ground). 
What fearful words are thefe ? in my foul's an- 
guifii 
Comes this fo quickly on me ? Be it fo ! 
I cleave to th' earth ! what have I now to do ? 
I am a (tilled thing, abas'd and crufh'd ; 
What boots it now w r ho srazes on mv woe ? 



Enter Mahomet with Osmir and his Ti 



rain. 



mahomet (to Ofmir, after looking at Valeria fiead- 
fajlly). 
She ftirs not, Ofmir, ev'n at my approach, 
She fits upon the ground, unmov'd and ftilh 
Thou forrow-clouded beauty, not lefs lovely 

(Going up to her.) 
For this thy mournful flate ! — She heeds me not, 
Emprefs and fov'reign dame, unto thofe titles 
Which thou fhalt ever w 7 ear, vouchfafe regard. 
Still fhe regards me not. (To Ofmir.) 

Widow of Conflantine ; (^fter a paufe.) 

Valeria (roujing herfelf quickly). 
Ay, now thou called on me by a name 
Which I do hear. There is ftrength in the found 
To do all poffible things ! Rifing quickly from the 

ground 1 and accofling Mahomet with an air 

of high affumedfiate.) 
What would'ft thou fay to her who proudly wears 
That honour'd title ? 



4*S CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS 



MAHOMET. 

Widow of Conftantine ; I come not here 
In the (tern fpirit of a conqu'ror. 
The flaughter of your people, by my order, 
Is ftoppM ; and to your bravely fallen lord 
I have decreed fuch fun'ral obfequies 
As fuits a valiant warrior and a king. 
Othus, and brave Rodrigo, and thofe men 
"Who to the lad their matter's corpfe defended, 
I have with honour grac'd. — Lacks there aught 

(till 
That, from the dark cloud which fo deeply fhades 
That awful beauty, one approving ray 
Might foftly draw ? Speak, and it fhall be done. 

VALERIA. 

Afk aught from thee ! 

MAHOMET. 

Yes, whatfoe'er thou wilt : 
For now too well I feel I have no power 
That can oppofe thy will. 

VALERIA. 

I give you thanks : I have a thing to afk. 

MAHOMET. 

Name it, and it is granted. 



A TRAGEDY. 429 

VALERIA. 

A place in the quiet tomb with my fall'ii lord, 
Therein to reft my head. This is my boon. 

MAHOMET. 

Well, and it mall be granted, fair Valeria, 
When that fair form is fitted for fuch reft. 
But whilft — (Approaching her with an air of freer 

admiration*) 

Valeria (putting him at a diflance haughtily J* 

No more : — I do not a(k it fooner. 
Yet that it be a fealed deed between us, 
Permit me here to put into your hands 
A mark'd memorial. Some few paces off 
It is depofited \ I will return 

And give it to you inftantly. ( Exit, attended by 

Lucia, Ella, itfc.) 

mahomet (to Ofmir, looking after her as foe goes 
out). 
See, with what awful lovelinefs (lie moves i 
Did all our bower'd prifons e'er contain 
Aught like to that ? 

OSMIR. 

It does, indeed, a wond'rous mixture feem 
Of woman's lovelinefs with manly ftate ; 
And yet, methinks, I feel as tho* it were 



43o CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

Strange, and perplexing, and unfuitable. 
'Tis not in nature. 



MAHOMET. 

Think'ft thou fo, good vizir ? 

Thou'rt right, belike, but it is wond'rous gracefuh 

(A loudfhriek of women heard without.) 

What fhrieks are thefe ? Run thou and learn the 

caufe. (Ofmir going, is prevented by Valeria, 

who re-enters with her robe wrapped acrofs 

her breaft, and fupported by Lucia, and Ella, 

and her other Attendants, who fee m in 'great 

affliclion round her. 

Valeria (fpeaking as Jhe enters J. 
Mourn not ; the thing is pad that was to be. 
Condud me to the fultan : I have ftill 
Strength to fulfil my talk. 

MAHOMET. 

Great Prophet ! what is this ? What had: thou 
done ? (To Valeria.) 

VALERIA. 

Brought thee the mark'd memorial of my right. 

(Shewing a dagger.) 
And that I now am fitted for that reft, 
The honour'd reft which you have granted me, 
Being the fix'd condition of your promife, 
Here is the witnefs. (Opening her robe, andjhew* 
ing the wound in her breafi.) 



A TRAGEDY. 431 

MAHOMET. 

Oh fad and cruel fight ! Is there no aid ? 
Oh live, thou wond'rous creature, and be aught 
Thy foul defires to be ! 

Valeria ("after finking back into a feat, fupported by 
her Attendants ) . 
I now am what my foul defires to be, 
And what one happy moment of wound flrength 
Beyond the pitch of fhrinking nature makes me 5 
Widow of Conftantine, without reproach, 
And worthy to partake the honour'd reft 
Of the brave lord whofe living love I fhar'd, 
As mares the noble wife a brave man's love. 

MAKOMET. 

Prophet of God, be there fuch ties as thefe ! 

Enter Rodrigo, and Othus wounded and fup- 
porting hi mfelf feebly upon his jheathed fword. 

VALERIA. 

And here come, in good time, my living friends: 
I (hall once more thofe gen'rous men behold, 
The fad remains of thofe who lov'd their -lord. 

(Holding out a hand to each of them.) 
You know brave brothers, how it is with me ; 
For fuch you were to him, and fuch to me 
My heart now truly owns you* 

8 



432 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS: 

OTHUS. 

Yes, we have heard : they told us as we enter'd, 
Moft noble woman, worthy of thy lord [ 

( Endeavouring feebly to kneel and kifs her hand \ 
whilji Rodrigo doesfo on the other fide of her.) 

VALERIA. 

This day's rough tempeft's o'er, my good Rod- 
rig * 
And thou ftill liv'ft to drive in other dorms : 
Heaven's high blefling and my dying thanks 
Reft on thy gen'rous worth ! — I would fay more, 
But now I feel I may not. 
Where art thou, Ella ? (Putting Ella's hand in his.) 

Here do I return 
The truft thou gaveft me ; and if the fultan 
Will yet to me one laft requeft vouchfafe, 
He will confirm this gift. 

MAHOMET. 

It is confirm'd. 

VALERIA. 

I thank you, gracious vi&or. 
Heaven blefs you both ! (To Ella and Rodrigo, 

who both kneel and kifs her hands.) 
Qthus, the dead go to their filent reft, 

(To Othus, looking fixedly at him. J 
And are no more remember'd : but thy lord — 
He whom thou lovedft — he whom all hearts lov'd — 



A TRAGEDY. 433 

He who fo noble and fo gentle was— 
Well fkill'd art thou to paint the deeds of men — 
Thou wilt not fuffer him to be forgotten ? 
What means that woeful motion of thy head ? 
Mine eyes wax dim, or do I truly fee thee ? 
Thy vifage has a ftrange and ghaftly look : 
How is it with thee ? 

OTHUS. 

As one who ftandeth at the city's gate, 
Thro' which his earlier friends have paft, and waits 
Impatiently, girt in his traveller's robe, 
To hear the welcome creaking of its bars. 

VALERIA. 

Ah ! art thou wounded then ? Alas ! ajas ! 
Art thou too of our company ? fad travelers 
Unto a world unknown. 



OTHUS. 

Nay, fay not fad, tho' to a world unknown. 
The fofter'd nurfling, at th' appointed feafon, 
Who leaves his narrow crib and cottage-home 
For the fair manfion of his lordly fire, 
Goes to a world unknown. 

VALERIA. 

Ay> thou would'ft cheer me, and I will be cheerM. 
There reigns above who caftshis dark (hade o'er us, 
Mantling us on our way to glorious light, 
I have offended, and I ihould be fearful, 

Ff 



434 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

But there is fent in mercy to my heart, 

For which I humbly give — — O no, I may not ! 

Death is upon me now.- -Ella and Lucia : 

Stand clofer to me : let me firmly grafp 
Something that I have lov'd. (Catching bold of 
them with a convulfive grafp, J 
It will foon ceafe : 

Farewel unto ye all ! (Dies,) 

(A folemn paife, allftanding round and gazing 
upon the body. J 

OTHUS. 

And this is the lad form that we do wear, 
Unto the fad and folemn gaze of thofe 
Who have beheld us in our days of joy. 
Honour and deepeft rev'rence be to thee, 
Thou honour'd dead ! (Boiving refpeclfully to tbt 

body.) 

MAHOMET. 

Great God of heav'n ! was this a woman's fpirit 
That took its flight ? 

RODRIGO. 

Let ev'ry proudefl worfhip be upon her, 
For (he is numbered with the gallant dead. 
Not in the trophied field, nor fculptur'd dome y 
No, nor beneath the- dark and billowy deep 
Lies one, o'er whom the valiant living wouli 
With truer zeal their lofty banners wave, 
Or bid the deep-mouth cannon nobly tell 
How brave men mourn the brave. 



A TRAGEDY. , 4 ;5 

How is it, Othus ? fomething in thine eye 
Of joyous fadnefs looks upon me wiftfully. 

(To Othus, who takes him tenderly by the hand.) 

OTHUS. 

Dofl thou not guefs ? — But I would fpeak to 
thee 
Of a brave foldier, who, in one fhort moment 
Of nature's weaknefs, has a wound receiv'd 
That will unto his life as fatal prove 
As felled: foeman's thruft : who in his reft 
Will not be mourn'd as brave men mourn the 

brave. 
Juftiniani in his cave of fhame • 

RODRIGO. 

And therein let him perifh ! 
He hath difgrac'd a foldier' s honefl fame : 
He hath difgrac'd the country of his birth : 

He hath It makes me ftamp upon the ground 

To think that one, who grafp'd with brother's 

hand 
The noble Conftantine, mould bafely turn, 
Name not his curfed name ! 

OTHUS. 

Art thou fo (tern ? In a lone cave he groans, 
On the damp earth, in deepefl agony 
Of the foul's ftirewdeft fufferings. I have 
By an old foldier been advis'd of this, 
And I would go to him, but that I feel 

Ff2 



436 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS : 

I needs mud go where a more powerful call 
Doth fummon me. 



rodrigo (foftened). 
Ah ! mud thou then fo foon, my gen'rous Othus! 
Muft thou fo foon? Well, afk whate'er thou 

wilt: 
I give my chafed pafTion to the winds. 
Ah ! goell thou ? Do I the lair, remain 
Of thofe who lov'd the noble Conftantine ? 
The laft of a brave band ? Alas ! alas ! 

(Embracing Othus tenderly,) 

osmir (to Mahomet, who Jirides up and down in 
gloomy agitation). 
Moil: mighty Mahomet, what thus diflurbs you ? 
May not your Have in humble zeal be told ? 

MAHOMET. 

Away ! away ! thy humble zeal I know; 
Yea, and the humble zeal of fuch as thou art. 
The willing fervice of a brave man's heart. 
That precious pearl, upon the earth exifts, 
But I have found it not. 

C Turning to Othus and Rodrigo.) 
Ye valiant men who have fo ferv'd your prince, 
There (till is in the world a mighty monarch, 
Who, if he might retain you near his throne, 
Shall he fay near his heart, in fuch dear zeal ? 
Would think his greatnefs honour^ 



A TRAGEDY. 437 

OTHUS. 

Great fultan, thou haft conquer'd with fuch arms 
As power has given to thee, th' imperial city 
Of royal Conftantine ; but other arms, 
That might the friends of Conftantine fubdue, 
Heav'n has denied thee. 

RODRIGO. 

No, mighty prince j they who have ferv'd for 
love, 
Cannot like flying pennants be transferr'd 
From bark to bark. 

mahomet (impatiently). 
I underftand you well, and you are free. 
Mine arms, fuch as they are, of heav'n are blefs'd, 
That is enough. 

OTHUS. 

That were indeed enough \ but heaven ofttimes 
Succefs beftows where bleffing is denied. 
A fecret fpirit whifpers to my heart, 
That in thefe walls your weaken'd wretched race, 
Slaves of their flaves, in gloomy prifon'd pomp 
Shall fhed each others blood, and make thefe towers 
A place of groans and anguifh, not of blifs, 
And think not when the good and valiant perifh 
By worldly power o'erwhelm'd, that heaven's high 

favour 
Shines not on them.— Oh, no ! then mines it mofh 



438 CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS. 

For then in them it mews th' approving world 

The worth of its beft work. 

And from their fate a glorious lefTon fprings ; 

A lefTon of fuch high ennobling power ; 

Connecting us with fuch exalted things 

As all do feel, but none with fuch true force, 

Such joy, fuch triumph, as a dying man. 

(Falling back into the arms of Rodrigo.) 



FINIS, 



POETICAL WORKS lately publijhed by Long- 
man, Hurst, Rees, and Orme. 



i. THE LAY of the LAST MINSTREL: a Poem. 
By Walter Scott, Efq. Elegantly printed by Ballantyne, 
in Quarto. Price il. 5s. boards. 

2. THE MINSTRELSY of the SCOTTISH BOR- 
DER ; confifting of Hiftorical and Romantic Ballads, collected 
in the Southern Counties of Scotland; with a few of a modern 
Date, founded on local Tradition. With an Introduction and 
Notes by the Editor, Walter Scott, Efq. Advocate. In 
3 vols. 8vo. finely printed by Ballantyne of Edinburgh. Price 
il. us. 6d. boards. The Third Volume maybe had feparate. 
Price 1 os. 6d. boards. 

■* Thcfe three intei erring volumes are dedicated to the Duke of Duc- 
cleugh, by Walter Scott, Efq. They perform for Scotland that tafk which 
the Bi.ih.op of Dromore did for England, by publishing the Relique? of An- 
cient Englifh Poetry. The materials are analogous; the feleclions are 
nude with equal talte ; the corrections are infinuated with fimilar dexte- 
rity ; theoiigina! cumpofitions are manufaclui ed in fuitable cofrume. If 
they be lefs fimple and natural, they are mare ftimukuit and fanciful, than 
the poems they imitate." Critical Review, Nov. 1803. 

3. SIR TRISTREM, a Metrical Romance of the Thir- 
teenth Century. By Thomas of Ercildoune, called the 
Rhymer. Edited from the Aochinleck MS. by Walter 
Scott, Efq. Advocate. Superbly printed in Royal 8vo. by 
Ballantyne. (Only 150 Copies printed.) Price 2I. 2s. boards. 

4. MADOC: a Poem, in Two Parts. By Robert 
South ey. Elegantly printed by Ballantyne, with Four beau- 
tiful Vignettes. In one large Volume, Quarto. Price 2I. 2s. 
boards. 

•5. JOAN of ARC, an Epic Poem. By Robert Southey. 
In 2 vols, printed on fine wove paper, hot prelfed. Embellimed 
with an elegant Portrait of the Maid of Orleans. The fecond 
Edition. Price 12s. in boards. 

'« It affords us plejfme to lee that a poem, the uncommon merit of 
which was recognized by us at its firft appearance (fee Monthly Review 
for April 1796), has fo fir obtained the fanition of the public as lo produce 
a demand for a fecond edition. We alio are gratified in obferviftg that the 
author has fo much fubdued the f elf-confidence and impatience of youth 
as to fubmit to the tafk of a very careful revifion of the whole, and to make 
ample facrifices of fuch paits as could not tiar.d the fcrutinv of his maturer 
judgment." Month, y Review, Jan. 1799. 

6. POEMS, including The Visions of the Maid of 
Orleans. By Robert Southey. 2 vols. Price us. in 
boards. 

" Among the youthful poets of the prefenc day Mr. Southey bears no 
inconliderable rank. He courted ihe Mules at an early age, and they did 
not treat his advances with difdain. He is not one of thofe cool verifiers 
who tamely purfue a fpirklefs courfe. lor he fiequei tly difplays feeling, 
tafte, and genius." Critical Review, June 1779. 



Poetical Works publijhed by Longman and Co* 

7. THALABA, the DESTROYER, a' Metrical Ro- 
mance, with copious Notes. By Robert Southey. Ele- 
gantly printed in 2 vols. Foolfcap, Svo. Price 14s. in boards. 

8. METRICAL TALES, and other POEMS. Seeded 
from the "Annual Anthology. " By Robert Southey. 
In 1 vol. Foolfcap, 8vo. Price 5s. 6d. boards. 

9. LYRICAL BALLADS, with other POEMS. By 
W. Wordsworth. Neatly printed in 2 vols. Foolfcap 8vo; 
Price us. in boards. 

** So much genius and originality are difcovered in this publication, that 
we wifh to fee another from ihe fame hand, written on more elevated fub- 
Jecls, and in a more cheerful difpofition." Monthly Review, June 1799. 

*' The author has thought for himfelf; he has deeply ftudied human 
nature in the bock of human aft ion, and he has adopted his language from 
the fame fources as his feelings. Aware that his poems are fo mateiially 
different from thofe upon which general approbation is at prefent bc- 
ftowed, he has now defended them in a preface of fome length; not with 
the foulifh hope of reafjuing his readers into the approbation of thefe par- 
ticular poems, but as a neceflary jufrirication of the fpecies of poetry to 
which they belong. It would be no mean, it would indeed be a very lafty 
praife, to aflfert of a writer that he is able to pour into other bofoms power- 
ful feelings of a particular clafs, ot belonging to a particular order of men. 
To this prai'e Mr. Wordfworth lays a well-fupported claim. He declares 
himfelf the poet chiefly of low and ruflic lite (fome fpecimens of ability he 
has given in other lines, but this is evidently his excellence), and he ponr- 
trays it, not under its difgutiing forms, but in fituations affording, as 
he thinks, the beft foil for the iffential paflions of the heart, incorporated 
■with an elementary -and durable Hate of manners, and with the beautiful 
and permanent forms cf nature. Each feparate poem has, as its diftiud 
puipofe, the developcriient of a feeling, which gives importance to the 
.-idtion and fuuaion, and not the action or fr.uaiion to the feeling." 

Britijk Critic, Feb, ifcoi. 

V The reflections which occur in ' a defciiptiun of the old Cumbeiland 
Beggar' are admirable, as are many others in this moft fafcinating publica- 
tion. There is all the moral pith and nervous force of Cowper in ibis para- 
graph, without any femblance of imitation; and it Mr. Wordfworth fhould 
proceed to poetic flights of equal altitude, and fhould foar as long upon tiu- 
wing, we doubt not that he will obtain a niche near the author of the Talk in 
the temple of ' aye enduring fame'." 

Monthly Mirror, June 1S01. 

10. THE POEMS of OSSIAN, &c containing the 
POETICAL WORKS of James Macpherson, Efq. in 
Profe and Rhyme: with Notes and Illultrations. By Mal- 
colm Laing, Efq. Elegantly printed by Ballantyne, on a 
fine wove Paper, and embclliihed with a finely engraved Portrait 
of Macpherfon. In 2 vols. Odavo. Price il. 10s. in boards. 



Strahan and Piefton, 
Pinters-Street. 



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